Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Prose Poetry Hope Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Hope

These Prose Poetry Hope poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Hope. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Hope poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Salvation comes with a far greater sacrifice than blind faith and car-wash fundraisers

Travelling to a foreign land,
engaging in a cause not rightfully yours to join,
illegally taking up arms
with a desperate desire to save baby orphans
(only to dig them into the ground anyway);
is a life-altering experience.

There is an old line which goes something like:
"A part of my soul died on that cold, November morn."

But, such an experience can have the opposite effect entirely.
Yes! An experience such as this
can re-kindle a passion within,
so that every single particle,
every minute of each passing hour,
feels like a sacred gift -
the most sacred gift imaginable.

Yet upon returning home from such an experience,
after being grilled by Internal Affairs,
threatened with charges of International Treason,
Subterfuge and Espionage(but in the end,
you were only trying to save baby orphans
that you had to dig into the ground anyway,
so Internal Affairs drops the charges, telling you to scram),
you are inevitably slapped across the face
with an inescapable new reality....

....everyone appears to be whining and complaining
about the most trivial things,
as if everyone simultaneously feels wronged.

And this is wot you feel compelled to do:
you want to take these whiners,
transport them one-by-one
back to the foreign land with you.
After they see living skeletons
drag themselves across the dirt,
moaning, groaning, pleading for a drop of clean water, 
a miniscule morsel of food,
you hand the whiner a gun,
point toward an ominous dust-cloud on the horizon,
and this is wot you say:

"See the dust-cloud moving closer towards us.
It is filled with psychopathic horsemen.
These psychopathic butchers are wielding bayonets, machetes and Kalashnikovs.
If you and I do not successfully kill these mad horsemen,
they are going to chop apart all of the baby orphans
congregated in the courtyard over there.
Do you see the beautiful baby orphans in the courtyard?
Yes, those are the orphans.
And if we do not successfully defend this camp,
yet somehow survive with our lives,
we are going to spend the rest of the night
digging the baby orphans into the ground.

So, it best be high time you wipe the tears from your face,
stop worrying about how so-and-so called you a loser or wotever,
how your retirement funds appear to be shrinking
and so you won't be able to play as many games
of hitting the little white ball across a course 
fed with enough water to run an entire city.
Forget about your little boo-boo.
Pull-up your chin, straighten that spine,
and start squeezing the trigger like there's no tomorrow."






September 25th, 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Open Communique to the Rogues

To the seedlings sprouting in the 8 corners of the world:



An open communique can lead towards a perilous precipice overlooking jagged rocks being pounded by the relentless waves of a cold, apathetic ocean -- in such a circumstance, it doesn't take much to slip, to be pushed, to be sent over the edge, shattering upon the rocks below, sucked down by an undertow erasing all evidence of your prior existence. We have come to an impasse, the windows of opportunity in the jet-streams of change, are passing by at astounding speeds. A true Anarchist is not a Terrorist; leave such decrepit despondency to ultra-fanatic zealots and the New Gestapo. A true Anarchist should not fight for lawlessness, should not wish for chaotic, wanton destruction - such myths are propagated by automatons and the controllers themselves. A true Anarchist should not raise placards in protest, should not spray-paint graffiti upon the walls of gaudy Bauhaus replications, nor lob Molotov cocktails at an establishment so entrenched, four heads grow back to replace every head, decapitated. A true Anarchist dons a masque of mirages, reflecting nationalism, consumerism and Swastikas back into the eyes of the pushers. A true Anarchist does so by donning the uniforms of business districts, of the worker, of the paint-splattered, ink-stained artisan. When a true Anarchist gains the confidence and trust of Drones left in charge of oiling the cogs, a true Anarchist enters the control-room not to smash instruments, but instead, turns dials, flicks switches, presses buttons, re-writes programs and codes, in order to help alter the directional course of the very Beast itself. 11.21.2012 .


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love letter - the island of our love - Part one

There is an island, the isle of trials and denials. I knew it well; for it was there that
I entered this world, into an environment of anger and argument. Of imprisonment and high
expectations, driven by questionable motives and an absence of love. Surrounded by an
unreasonable sea to protect against the threat of friendship. Threat to whom? I never saw
any winners in this game of nurture, if nurture is what it was. But I have no regrets. I
point no finger. I cast no blame. Maybe I was the winner, because I never lost faith. To
me, the island was the island of hope. Hope never failed to fill me with optimism.
Optimism filled me with enthusiasm. Enthusiasm filled me with ambition and passion. I
believed in myself. I believed in the possibility of love. Belief enabled me to dream. To
dream of how love could be. Should be. But I never believed, would be.

I accepted that true love was the rarest of all flowers; that I would never be granted the
privilege to hold it in my arms; to witness its beauty with my own eyes; to become
intoxicated through its sweet heady scent. The abundance of love, honour and respect in my
heart, would never lie its head on the soft breast of its mate. But, at least, I would
have experienced some small glimpse of love in my hope filled dreams.

Now, I look back and wonder how I could have been so ready to loosen my hold on all that I
hoped for; all that I wanted; all that I needed. For you have shown me the true meaning of
love. You have given me unbelievable happiness. You have opened my eyes. I have discovered
that the love we have is bigger, better, more intense, more beautiful, more intimate, and
more precious, than anything I could ever have dreamed or hoped for. You have made me feel
like I have never felt in my life before. You have taken me to heights and places I have
never been before. I am filled with such deep and unconditional love, honour and respect
for you. My eyes fill with tears of joy as I write to you; as I think of you.

(continued...)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fallen Prince has Risen - Michael

Burning so bright
With new found life
Released from his ball and chain
Out of the dark
And into the light
Flying… on wings of freedom again.

As he writes his life
His soul ignites
In flames of wisdom and sight
Brilliantly claiming 
His God given right
As his truth kills the evil ‘Black Knight’.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Babylon-Kids

When job positions within monopolies prevent us from working together
towards a goal far greater than lining the pockets of a few,
when schools stop us from educating ourselves,
and are instead, assembly lines churning-out tin soldiers,
when governments prevent humanity from achieving self-determination,
when media keeps us informed about current events,
rather than us becoming involved in the events,
then only in resistance will we find each other;
will we find ourselves in the purest sense. 

The masqued ones are erasing themselves
within a society in which everything is under surveillance,
measured, quantified and appraised,
where everything is determined by resumes,
credit history, internet profiles.
Background checks, gossip columns, intelligence agencies,
conspire to drag every last detail out into the open.

The masqued ones live in an in-between world
being squeezed by other worlds.
It is a world existing in the hope of understanding reality, 
by changing reality.
If the powers that be, can reveal the hidden world,
dragging it out under the searing spotlight of scrutiny,
under the spotlight of current mass-ideology,
then one more possible world reality becomes extinct
under the boots of Fascists using the freedom of speech
to silence the freedoms of everyone else;
eventually, even including themselves.

The controllers want to show there are no unchartered paths
leading away from the programmable masses of mundanity.
Therefore, the masque is seductive to those not fully conditioned
to become blind sheep led by shepherds, towards the slaughter.
The masque suggests mystery, unknowns,
alternative endings to a story covered in mildew.
The masque symbolizes a threat to an entrenched establishment.
The masque becomes the chrysalis in which a pupa
can evolve into something different; into something new.


....in warrens deep below,
Babylon-kids write love songs,

and above ground, people preach rights and freedoms, 
while enslaving the world in the chains of a democracy
that has never truly existed.

Democracy is a dream turned nightmare,
so the Babylon-kids are keeping the dream
of a choose-your-own-adventure, alive.




12.03.2012




.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Angel with a Broken Wing

Sitting alone again, wondering if you're okay.
being alone, i remembered how i wanted you to stay.
looking for something I can hold on to.
It's the pillow that reminds me of you.

Every time the clock ticks,
I would always find a way to entertain myself &
hoping i can do some magic tricks.
before i close my eyes & go to sleep,
every night , i hope, i can be w/ you for just a glimpse.

every time it rains, i would always go outside,
but i guess no one would like to hold my hand & be by my side
I touched my face & i was already crying under the rain.
will there be someone willing to cast away all this pain?

until now, no one would risk,to wipe off these tears.
The shadow of my past, well those are my fears.
i always want to hide myself from this world's madness.
I often feel that I'm inside a bubble or in a dark sanctuary,
where there is sadness.

I hope there will be a wishing star that will pass by.
I'll make another wish,to find the guy who cant make me cry.
i sat at the corner of my room, and in my hand, was a ring,
a question that even i cant answer,
"will i forever be waiting like an Angel w/ a broken Wing"?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Will Carry Your Burden

Unnecessary anguish that keeps you withdrawn heartache and heartbreak 
continues to weight heavy for your sake you come undone and in an instant your 
gone excuses are enough to justify when times get rough. So complicated and 
jaded misunderstood swept away unexplained limbo in eternities irrevocable 
flame, your not satisfied hollow reinsurance shows when you cry your personal 
prison grows accustom to screams of loathing. My obsession to surround your 
sorrow with calm and paint a prefect picture of stimulated reason to ease your 
instability, breathe with me rest your frustration and regret break this darkness 
and confess precious time will wait while your captivated in change I will carry 
your burden.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

And Then I Pray

You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you 
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I 
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I 
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake 
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing 
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my 
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and 
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one 
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I 
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed 
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses 
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I 
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you, 
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Last Moment

Day by day my body decays
And my soul waits
For the warmth of your embrace
The meaning I cannot trace
The time is now to receive your grace
I remember much
Yet memories past have no bearing
I can see much
Life
The meaning almost clear
The dust settles and chaos vanquished
Peace and love echoed again and again through the halls of time
Bear no weight until the final moments
Jubilance captured
A single frame as I lay
Time will no longer wait and I can no longer stay
Weep not
Harmony engulfs me
Symphonies escort me
And angels guide me
My loving Father waits for me
I can almost see Him
I certainly feel Him
The old world fades to grey
Weep not
A brilliant glow not of this world fills me
A love not felt by mortals
It is the beginning of the end
My breath shallow
My thoughts clear
My soul readies
Do not weep
He is waiting for me
This is exactly where I am supposed to be


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Act One (The Scholar of life- Opening Speech)

The love of life is a very beautiful and splendid thing. Regretfully, it’s something many
fail to ever recognize. One day, I stopped to contemplate the beauty of compassion and
forgiveness. This is where the true beauty of life is found. When we stop to recognize
that personal feelings are less important than the feelings we are able to create in
others, then we have started to embrace the true beauty of life. To our lives poetry is a
beautiful gift from God. It enables us to step out of our external surroundings and into a
beautiful place, which of course, is the place known as our soul. From its depths we start
to realize the true power that is found in words. Words have the ability to create
feelings in others. Words can open eyes to see the beauty that has not yet been seen.
Words can take us on journeys to places unknown. Open our minds to philosophical
views,which had previously never been contemplated. Thus, leading us into a world, which
has never been seen through our eyes. 
      We are poets, children of God, creators of feelings, and scholars of life. It is
only from the bottom of the well that we learn to truly embrace and understand the warmth
and brightness of the sun. It is only from the top of the mountain that we are able to
understand the darkness that lie in the back of the cave. Until our soul has been emptied
we never fully appreciate what it means for it to be full. Words are no less than the
knife we can use to slice open the cake of life. Thus, enabling us to share pieces of 
ourselves. What truly matters in this life is the fact that we are able to share and give
a little piece of ourselves. True success can only be measured in our ability to share our
experiences in life. Thus, enabling
others to feel and experience the depths of our knowledge. This is our gift and we should
understand the depth of its responsibility. We should all vow to enhance our gift to the
best of our abilities. We all have so much to learn and such little time with which to
learn it. 
        At the end of the play, as the stage dims and the curtains fall, I leave the
theater. Outside, alone at the corner I realize; sometimes I feel like a blind man
standing at a crossroad in the fog. Shuddering at the thought, I tighten my coat and walk
quietly down the dimly lit street of remorse.


I have no idea if this is correct but I did enjoy myself.
For Constance's contest. ps. I have reset these lines
many times but they keep moving when I save the
poem. I guess its a poem anyhow. If it happens 
again I apologize.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Changing Seasons

Changing Seasons

In a burst of color and animal choruses 
Sovereign sun heralds in a golden morning –
The air was delicate with the perfume of cherry blossom 
Blown in from the hem of pink rows that lined the 
driveway on Grandpa’s farm 

I looked across at hay stacked verdant hills that were
Tossed with yellow daffodils, purple crocus and white snowdrops 
They danced to the baton of the breeze and the 
Hidden orchestra of lilting bird song of that fragrant spring morn

Grandma sang to me her songs of childhood 
As we walked arm in arm amongst beds of fragrant roses 
and budding fruit trees that whispered promises of full baskets  
that would soon be heavy laden with the Summer fruits, preserves, 
Pies and jam of a bountiful harvest, a few months from now

Summer came rich with its harvest, merry hearts
and long hazy, lazy summer days and nights scented 
with wisteria, frogs and cicada, chirping and croaking 
their melodious summer anthem of  ‘All is well with the world’ 
as we toasted to our full and wonderful life

Autumn brought in a more somber note and amber tones
though warm and restful, they soon told me - life is changing again
time quickly moves on - it prepared me for the winter and 
the chill mirrored in the face of the full moon as it lit a silvery path
to my next season’s change

The cherry trees glowed white against the dark night sky like iridescent bones along 
the snow covered driveway - they waved their bony fingers goodbye 
as I crunched solemnly down the long white corridor with slow steps and a  heavy heart that was beating to the mournful dirge of  hoot owls and creaking limbs – I blinked back tears under that star kissed sky and full moon that lit my path 
The moon reminded me- each season has its bounty that I can treasure -I held those memories close to my well seasoned but thankful heart.

Brenda V Northeast


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fishing

I grabbed my fishing pole and all the fishing lures I thought I would need.  Now, I’m on my way to fish for my daily meal.
	When I got to the waterfront, there were no fish for me to catch.  I was disappointed, so I decided to sit down and think.
	While sitting there thinking, a man came over to me.  He ask, why are you just sitting here with your fishing pole and lures?
	I told the man coming here was a big mistake, so, I’m sitting here because there are no fish for me to catch.
	The man said follow me, I’ll take you to a place where you can fish, you won’t need your fishing pole or your lures and you won’t have any regrets.
	I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I followed him anyway to see what was his plan.
	He took me to a place where a crowd of people had gathered.  I said to him, there is no water so how can I fish, what can I hope to catch.
	I said to myself, I’ll never catch any fish because too may people are here, so now my hope had been totally shattered.
	He said listen to what I  say, then you will understand why I brought you to this place.
	He stood in front of the crowd and he started to speak.  His voice was soft and gentle, like sweet honey to a bee.
	He spoke of love, kindness, forgiveness and many other wonderful thing.  I forgot about wanting to catch fish for me to eat.
	He keep talking and I started to understand.  He wanted me to fish for lost souls, so I can teach them about God’s holy plan. 
	I’m no longer a fisherman for creatures of the sea.  I am a fisherman for the Lord, that was His ultimate plan for me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To weather the storm

Storms above me, storms below, Storms of violence, Storms of sadness, Storms of anger Storms of people laughing, mocking my existence Sorrow, and the joy of the few lights of hope and friendship echoes Through the storms The storms surround me night and day No land sight Poseidon’s rage is all I see No mercy found, twix’t night and day But for the brief repast The gift night brings To weather the storms I travel unseen, unheard Past those who give the storm its powers To the places in my dreams Where night and day are side by side And Wolves gather below the moons Midday and night, to sing Their songs of peace Of legends from long ago Of loyalty to their pack And the fight to survive. To weather the storms I look to the wolves As a cub, to the mother The strong live to be the hunters Whilst the weak become the prey The storm takes all Partial to none it hunts One by one, boat by boat, all fall to the storm Human, Animal, Angel, Demon, the storm resides in us all waiting to take hold to drag us to its depths when hope is gone darkness rules until the Light is found hope is gone


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One Drop - Prose

These forgotten badlands are arid and parched. It’s felt the blistering, desert hot winds.
Turbulent gritty sand storms have crossed these lands. What was once lively, thriving is 
now only a desolate, thirsty terrain. After being drought-ridden for so long, the ground is 
hard, unyielding even to the smallest root.  Even vultures have stopped flying overhead 
for how can something die if everything is already dead?Day after desiccated day, the sun 
beams down, relentless. Although the night is somewhat welcoming, it is still so thick and 
humid that it doesn’t provide much comfort. But there’s a scent in the air….something 
somewhat familiar but from ages ago. There’s a change in the atmosphere…and an eerie 
silence that stretches for miles, like time has stood still. Splat! There…a scattered, dark 
circle on the ground…disappearing almost instantly. Suddenly, the scorching sky breaks 
open. Rain…cool, wet liquid…it does exist. Looking across the horizon, you can see it. Like 
a silky veil draping over the lands in a steady, fluid motion. There is no other sound 
around…just the sound of this drumming rain landing, making everything it touches glisten 
and gleam like diamonds. Giving drink to a once thought unquenchable territory, it opens 
up wide and soaks it all in. The water running, dripping into the trenches that were only 
once small cracks…..reaching depths unknown to bring forth life of what was once dead. If 
there were such a smell as years of dehydration and depravity finally receiving 
sustenance, this smell would be it. Such a beauty to behold…so much water that it stands
in pools until this hardened ground can learn what it’s like to soften in order to accept it. 
It’s everywhere, can you see it? Abundant, unwavering water. Everything has been so 
barren, you can see for miles…but…wait..what’s this? Something so small that you would 
almost miss it. Emerald green, a majestic inch…a sprout….a sprout of hope….a sprout of 
life…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

And the westerly wind,
Will blow a sea of waving grass
And the sea's fine mist 
Will breathe drops like dew
And the sinking suns
Will cloak the sky's horizon
And the moons of Autumn
Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest
And the violet tinged edge of night
Will cry for the white bursting of the stars
And the carved thrust of the mountain range
Will challenge the forever yielding blue
And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening
Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams
Rise


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pawns

We the old and broken, have become the pawns
in the grand game of politics. We are as in the game 
of chess of the lowest esteem, expendable 
if not worse unwanted, a barganing chip.
For three years we haven't even received 
a cost of living increasee
while their income they have 
increased handsomely.

They have as they so often do broken
their promise to us. Social security was a
promise made by them, that we paid
for when we were able to work, 
extracted from every pay check we earned.
Those  revenues where to be put in a trust
for us to draw from when the time came
that we had need of them. However our 
government for decades have used those 
funds as they pleased, for things other than 
what they were intended for. Why am I not surprised? 
because our so called public servants have 
broken  countless promises and in the process 
lined their pockets from the spoils of their deceptions. 
The Bill of Rights and the Constitution
they have shredded and the first casulity 
was the truth, now we are the second. 
Most of our fatrhers fought and many died to
defend the rights that they have cast into the 
the trash heap.  Our national debt is now beyond
any hope of us ever repaying, robbing the young of
any hope of a future or even a job, taxes they will have
to pay tremendous to pay for there folly. China Told 
President Obama, We're not going to lend you any more,
sure can't say I blame them, probably never pay back what
we already borrowed form them. England is burning because
of the same folly of the politicians, won't be surprised
if the same thing takes place here. People with no hope
and no future what do they expect. They'll go on filling their
pockets with the taxes we all pay, the don't care it's all
well and fine for them. Will give themselves another big
pay increse next year, you just wait and see. Like mother
Hubbard everyone elses cubbard is bare, no bone for
the doggies anymore. They have destroyed everything
 Along with, "One nation under God". This once upon a time
good nation has quite literally gone to the "Dogs".  The only
Thing that I can say is that I wouldn't have said before,
I'm ashamed of what this nation has became.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

23C


The digital face displays a naughty grin. 5:23am.
Sliding into seat 23C, I double-check my ticket just to make sure:

Seat 23C on Flight 753241698, with a designated lift-off time of 6:08am.


Beside me, chuckles Robert Anton Wilson's spirit:

"See, this is exactly why we appointed you as a Cardinal(the bird?) 
in The Church of The 23 Enigma. You are a perfect fit.
Son, this is a destiny you cannot change, 
so why not just make the best of it.

The plane might crash, be refurbished or decommissioned,
but the flight itself doesn't ever stop. Ever. 
Once you get on, get in, the flight stays on an infinite course.
Thank you for flying with: Synchronicity 23 Airways. Please, enjoy your flight."








2.24.2013: 23:57


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope I Helped

…This is where this story ends,
…And with hope one more begins,
 
…But it all depends on you,
…And what you decide to do,
 
…Will you take these words and share,
…These poems with artistic flair,
 
…Are these lessons only mine,
…Or should they be more refined,
 
…As my life comes to an end,
…I have no more time to spend,
 
…Spinning these gossamer webs,
…As the blood from my heart ebbs, 
 
…So no more sweet lullabies,
…As this crass old poet dies,
 
…But with one more line to go,
…I do hope I helped you grow.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mood


Details | Prose Poetry | |

STORMS CLOUDS

                                      STORMS   DON’T ALWAYS LAST 
	
 Shipwrecked, my ship destined for destruction
 As I sailed across the ocean, storm waves beat against me 
Destined for destruction, destined for disaster
Moments of despair, silenced with fear, I tremble
My heart raced with beat of uncertainty	
Never would I imagine that this day would come 
Waters  surrounds ,  and engulfed me 
My ship continued on a course I have never experienced before
This time for sure I thought I would die 
While I sat there praying that the storm would soon be over 
Tears streams down my eyes as I battled to reach the seashore
I was lost and afraid  ,sure to sink,  lost my anchor  
Then in wink of a moment everything felt  quiet
I rush hastily  to the deck just to make sure ,it was then i realized
Suddenly the rain stopped, the thunder stop rolling 
The wind was calmed, the sea was silent 
As I gazed across I could see land for sure
It was then I recognized  that even though I go through the storms of life  
Storms  clouds always  pass.







Details | Prose Poetry | |

The poem that's never read

I hide here at the back
Not the last page, but nearly so
The thick leathery binding which protects me
Is starting to fray and the letters fade

I'm safe up here on the top shelf
And none but the keenest would
Peer beneath this tired, tatty shell
But maybe they would appreciate...

For so many years I have remained unread
I almost fear the moment
When daylight comes
And at last I can sing


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The color of love

Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve, 
i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty
and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start

My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way.
Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all

Many times I’ve dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears,
As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways,
I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true,
How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do.

I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along “My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind".

 If again such a love should come my way, I’d break free of those dark days I’d confess my true heart and reject the rest and  break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreamer

Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!

“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!


* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts
http://echoes19.wordpress.com/2013/01/22/dreamer-2/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Perfect Day

Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone

The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead

On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams

Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon

As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive

But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day

My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe

I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon

And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who i am

Who i am

Gazing at the mirror observing what I see,
all might not be perfect, but it all belongs to me.
In the eyes of the mirror, a woman beckoned me,
when I looked at her from head to toe, I just love what I see.
 There might have been a part of me, that to me was never known,
 i would have search to find it, if I had only known. 
This love for myself that was embedded inside confused an approaching frown
 and the moment I spent to discover myself, my world Turned upside-down.


I was afraid of people saying, "Who does she think she is?"
 Now i have the courage to stand and say "this is who i am".
 Never will i follow the majority of living a life of constant duplicity,
 as a successful rebellion, take me as I am, or watch me walk away.
 What makes me, me is my originality, with lots of sincerity
 and I cherish this freedom which lies in being me.

The eyes of the society might not project its light on me,
but never will this bring me down or makes me think less of me.
 No external source will fulfill my void, within me i find my eternal joy.
 Known life's is too short to be self- obsessed but when my eyes sent me a rainbow
 filled with gentle colors that project confident within me, 
my world seems brighter each time i opened up the window of my face. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Grandad's Missing

There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
A hollow cavern 
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Black SUNSHINE

Dawn rises, and the Sun is Grey, again : One can hear the tears flowing.
The nakedness of the mighty Oak :  Withers : In the shadow of “ LIFE “
I watch “Mother Nature”  cry Tears of pain : in the West wind blowing
I catch those tears of Pain: For My Beloved  “ LENORE “  My “ WIFE “
In the darkness after Dawn ; in the Ebony of the Moonlight  : I still Live
Sullenly, I reminisce  of the LIGHT of the Past ; When I still had a Heart
As the Shadow of Death , follows me into an abyss, where only Death can Survive 
I think of Winters gone by, before the History of Forever : was torn Apart
Through the Corridors of  unknown Sanity  :my eyes cry tears of Empathy,  Dead
There is no morning Dew, on flowers wilted in a new Life  of nonexistence
In the Gloomy Mist of time forgotten I stare at Heaven from my Eternal bed
Hewn from a tree standing alone in a Forest , of Humanities nonexistence
Blinded my the Aura of death I seek a rebirth of Light in me to shine in my eye
           Will I ever Know : as I once Knew " LOVE " ~ before I Die ~

     Inspired by the Contest : " Dark Prose " Sponsored by " Catie Lindsey "

Dedicated to my Lost LOVE "Lenore" ; My LOVE Anew EVERLASTING " Barbara Jean "


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twinkling eyes

Twinkling eyes that sparks, funny how emotions can takes over the heart
Impossible words that is hard to find, thinking one movement and he might cross
the line.  He wore his pride like a badge, but the wounds in his heart is deep,
and for him to love again is just a broken dream.

Even through loneliness scream when he’s under his sheet,
He rather succumb to its sting, other than listened to the silence song his
Heart had to sing. Known his heart is a self made wall,
And he’s not the type of man she should tell how much she loved afterall.

Thoughts kept running through his mind when he recall
how profound he looked her in the eyes. Making him feelings so awkward that
 he could not control all he knew is having her besides him daily, his love will grows.
He realize that her tender care is the only thing that keeps him alive, yet he 
Settled with routine and afraid go beyond the boundaries.

She reaches out to feel his touch, but somehow had not get enough
Thinking of going her way, but she knew her mind will suffer in everyway
He took her in his arms, where she found security. Hands in hands 
She looked in her lover eyes and saw the love inside and
Made him show the feelings, he always had to hide
Tears fell down his face as emotions takes over
his body language says everything and there things became clear.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DAMAGED MY TRUE LOVE

written 17th Sept 2013



When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
 don't let me curse another, leave me loveless

For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
 my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start

Please find help to set your heart free
 trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily 

Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
 but some how, you managed the impossible

Unlovable for my entire life
 yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife

Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
 at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care

Please don't enter my life's pain and despair  
 you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love

I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
 soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...




Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Prayer

Lord, help me to understand you more and more.
Help me to appreciate the gifts of life as I explore.
So many times I've put doing my will about yours.
Please turn my heart towards your forever love.

Lord, help me to live the way you ask me to love.
And to love the way you ask me to live.
Dear God, I pray to you on my bended knees.

Hear my cry.
My urgent need for you.
Let me see you in all things.
Give me life anew.

Teach me to listen.
Teach me to be kind.
Lord, strengthen me that I might find.
The road that leads me closer to you everyday.
Please Lord, 
I beg you
Show me the way!

----By Janille James----


Details | Prose Poetry | |

"Endurance"

A solitary tree upon an isolated hill.
The willow sways it's rhythmic dance in expectation of an August gale.With leaves abound 
awaiting to camouflage the ground to a carpet of golden canvas.A winters prelude.
As presuemed,out of somewhere the tempest shows forth with winds that bend her and a 
sweeping rain that stings with bite.With tenacious roots bounded to earth and stone,against 
the force of relentlessness she strains to hold ground.
Upon clearing,nakedness.
Stripped of her jewels,her blossoms....her leaves,an elegance that will no longer paint these 
day lit skies.Spookish clouds give way the bluish heavens. Unknown to the weariness,birds pause upon familiar perches

With no colors to turn in Octobers skies she weds a leafless fall,but yet through 
endurance,she remains.


                                                  The end





Details | Prose Poetry | |

For You I Belong

When the time passed through
The laughter deserted by the absent of you 
Filled by the emptiness, 
Sink by the loneliness

Whenever I cornered by the uncertainty
Standing alone to my anxiety
You were there, paved the ambiance of the bright
Pulled me back through the light 

For you are my sunshine
For you are my moonlight
The world would not be complete without you
'Cause the world got the half of me in you

Recall the moment when I'm with you
The warmth last in our point of view
And I desire you felt the same way too
That I was there 'cause belonging to you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Escape

I close my eyes and put the moon asleep.

I see lands and scopes of being mixed
from long ago rolled into tomorrow.

Circus clowns and lost classrooms,
moving caravans of little people;
creatures not knowing the way and 
I have quite far to go.

Don't leave me here this way.  Close
the cover, hide the ground neath your 
feet.  Tracks hidden from all.  Dig and
dig cover it all up into deserts where
dusty sands can play, hide and sink
in any way you don't need to close
your eyes.  Keep your mouth shut.

Close the cover we'll go to the sea
hide behind octopus, one leg for you,
seven for me.  We'll be fine leaving
it all behind.

It's been tried before.  Double buckled.
you blended with the sandbed.  Close
it properly this time.  There's no one
here who'll care to climb downward
or upward.

We're on our own this time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEYOND by Anna Lo P

..beyond fantasy, beyond reality
  beyond past, beyond present
  beyond belief, beyond faith 
  beyond imperfection, beyond beauty
  beyond youth, beyond gray.

  beyond joy, beyond hurt
  beyond honesty, beyond lies
  beyond truth, beyond doubts
  beyond humility, beyond pride
  beyond good, beyond evil.
  
  beyond kindness, beyond cruelty  
  beyond happiness, beyond sadness
  beyond possession, beyond obsession
  beyond boundaries, beyond time
  beyond death, beyond Life.

  To surpass all these, lies both their Fate.
  
  He will find Her, to have a purpose & see the light
  She will find Him, to have a meaning & feel the life
  Fortuity, Serendipity, Fate and Destiny 
  They'll meet again, holding onto their Love & Faith...

  ...xoxo...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thread of Hope

As all I’d ever termed wondrous bliss unexpectedly died -
As my fantasy of a reality with destruction did collide -
My hopes shattered around me like glass in countless pieces,
Fragments suspended in mocking beauty as time freezes…

The clock hand ticks forward and it all crashes to the floor
My knees hit rock-bottom when I could take no more
All I now see is blackness where once there was color
Gone appears the light from the sun and its fervor…

I begin to walk away from the pond of shattered dreams
But the glass is in my clothes and cutting through my heart, it seems
Perhaps I am too close, the smoke is clouding my full view-
Glance up at the tower, instinctively know what to do…

Run up the steps; one, two,three hundred endless stairs
And I barely catch my breath, or have time to fill lungs with air -
Before the ground beneath my feet crumbles into sand
Loud thunder above me rumbles as I fall back down on land…

And I hit rock-bottom again
Thinking this must be the end
For surely no human can go through this pain
And still see rainbows through the rain…

The whole world seems gray and black tonight
With not a speck of pure, identifiable white in sight
Nothing is untouched, gone is everything -
Then how do I glimpse in that crack a thin white string?

Among the dirt, surely this uncorrupted clean string is not real
But just to verify the hopeless doubts, I reach out a hand to feel
And to my electric surprise, it’s most tangible indeed
I yank it out attached to a note, uncrumple it and read:

“Verily, with every hardship comes ease” [Quran 94:6]

That white thread...
Of hope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE GIFT OF WIND

winding scarves on my face
blowing air through my skin
skirting around my legs searching
in my soul rooting out the pegs
of memory of other winds of
time    spaceless    nameless
places and scenes that are
past and gone lifted up out of
sorrow far away gone  gone
long gone free with the wind


Details | Prose Poetry | |

RAW

Struck with this bleeding 
heart
drips dropping straining
the pores of so many
open sores.

Needles pricked in one
more.

I am struck raw
wretched, stabbed and torn.
Old bleeding sores left
dripping by the door.

We won't leave this way
but
you already have many 
times before.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FOR ALL THE TIMES

 
FOR ALL THE TIMES You want to say so much, but you’re afraid to get hurt again. You find it hard to explain where to begin, All you have is yourself that keeps you Protected in your silence and pain. Too much struggle has left you with so many scares, That it has become difficult for you to know Which one is deeper from the other to measure in life? You want to say so much, but you’re afraid to get hurt again. So many sacrifices in life you’ve had to give, All that you have left is nothing to surrender too, But to believe in what fate has given you in return. Love was once a dream you thought you had, But now it has become an empty space With darkness all around you. You want to say so much, but you’re afraid to get hurt again. You try to pretend to yourself that there’s hope, But it has become a stranger in your deepest thoughts, And it blinds you from the truth around you. You shed your fears in tears filled with moments of sadness, But all your Life has been to you is a big disappointment, And still you hold on to your dreams. You want to say so much, but you’re afraid to get hurt again. There are so many beautiful moments to share Where there is more to life then wondering alone in the dark, All you have to do is disapprear into the wild and look For that one dream you have been searching for so long. Maybe one day God will make your dreams come true, For all the wonderful things he has created you for.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Alone on a Planet

alone on a planet,
the planet he was born on,
the planet which gave him strength,
which gave him everything he needed,
what he realizes is the planet wasn't what he thought it was,
the people weren't the people he thought they where,
the human being is not even the human we know about.

Into the deep detail of the human skin he goes,
what he witnesses is huge symbolism coming from the universe,
every form bonding with another form,
the form which bonds ,
keep on bonding as life is a infinite form.

What he discovers is he is in a delusion which is preventing him from becoming complete,
a delusion coming from the higher system such as religion & politics.,

The system which infects our mind ,
making us manipulated for its selfish desires,
the system which turns us into a auto destructive machine,
the system which is not going to let you discover the infinite and what you truly are,
the system consisting of a rebellious negative energy created from the principle of pure destruction.,

A system controlled from another form of life which wants us to remain slaves!,
slaves it wants us so we wont become complete as it fears us!. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Unconditional Dog

First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like Jacksonville, or Philadelphia, or wherever really.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is
unpredictable.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?
Broken glass bottles.

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Somethimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block
and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions
at once, or wind itself around and around you
until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Colour of Hope

A soldier fighting for what he hopes is right, trying to make peace with himself... holds on to 
a most understated event- the sunrise and pins all his hopes on to it.


 
Its not yet dawn...


The night has ended.
A soft glow arises in the eastern lands beyond,
Soft, like a mother's touch
Pink, orange,gold,and red all born out of the same deep night
Black desperate sadness reaches out to taste silent delight. 
The colour of hope...

The taste of survival returns
Parched throats,blood stained hands...
Another day to hope, to follow the valiant heart...
I pray, someday, to make a new start.

We fight for peace, we kill for you...
Every time we kill, its only something inside us that dies!
Its a sad story, its our silent resigned sacrifice.

The day dawns, amidst the dead and the dying...
Today I am on the battlefield, crying
For the men I have lost, and myself too
But the night has passed and its a day closer to the end,
I hold on to my prayers, silent and few.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

It's Great To Be Alive!

Tamera liked to run in the cold, on a whim she stopped by Woolworth and bought a package 
of hot tamale candies to eat after her run.  She loved having a reward for everything.  
Wearing her golden sweatpants Tamera decided to run laps, which she loved to do on the 
track alone late at night as the moon tipped his head and winked at her. She started this 
shortly after her divorce.   It was cathartic for her to watch her warm breath rise in the cold 
air.  Running in the winter made her feel alive to be so cold, to run and beat the elements. 
She loved the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.

She didn’t notice the man that joined her, until he passed her.  She hadn’t seen him before.  
He had a Florida Gators jersey, orange sweat pants and a blue ski hat on. She liked his 
strides, they seemed fluid.  She had only been running a few years herself.  It was a hobby 
that she enjoyed.  Having company on the track felt good, normally she had the track all to 
herself.  She usually left after running three miles.  Tonight she felt like running more laps 
than usual.  She kept running.  Her new friend kept running too. Tamera was always 
competitive. Who knew maybe she could outrun him.

She found her rhythm and felt the adrenaline rush of the endorphins finally kick in. That's 
what she like about jogging, the endorphines. It felt freaking out of this world!  
Her heart was beating fast, her breathing was steady.  Her strides were growing wider and 
longer.  It felt so good to Tamera to be alive and one with the track.  She almost felt like 
she was flying over the Grand Canyon.

She kept running and running, until she could hardly feel her legs.  They felt numb, she heard 
the crowd as they cheered for her.  She saw every handsome man that she had ever known 
standing on the sidelines naked as they were cheering for her.  She smiled at them as she 
passed them by like a blur, for she was so fast.  She imagined her ex-husband lying on the 
ground rolling around in sheer pain as she ran all over him to win the race.  She saw herself 
jumping over the highest hurdles with the grace of an agile deer.  She was in her runner’s 
paradise. 

After a while, she noticed she had the track all to herself once again and her handsome 
gentleman, Mr. Moon had also moved along.  When she checked her mileage counter, Tamera 
had run eleven miles.  It was a great run, the best she had ever had. It was a great night to 
be alive!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christ Child

In eternity past, the Father asks the Son to go down.
Having equal Love for humans the "Yes" comes fast.
When Creation leads to time, the world waits for 4 BC
Marking the start of the end of Satan's long rule at last.

Did Satan laugh at the poor setting for Jesus' birth here?
A cry in a cave for animals pierces the night, changing all.
Shepherds worship; later wise kings give precious gifts.
Mary and Joseph marvel, yet Herod's rage soon gives a call.

A call to leave quickly to Egypt where they'll live as refugees.
Sparing the Christ child a merciless death of those under three.
When Herod finally dies, Jesus' parents head back to Israel.
Still not fully safe from mad rule, Nazareth is their destiny.

Here the child will grow to be a man, following His parents rule.
Surprising the Pharisees with His wisdom at 12, at 30 riling them.
Preaching with authority, healing the incurable, loving the humble.
Women weep repenting at his feet; one's healed by touching his hem.

Zacchaeus risks going into a tree and finds Jesus' salvation so free.
Nicodemus comes at night to ask and ends amazed he's met God's Son
The Woman at the Well gets far more vital water than the usual kind.
And many healed can't but tell others of the miracle God has done.

The babe in the manger now stills the storm and his disciples believe
Even seeing the dead arise, like Lazarus in the tomb for four days.
Foretelling a greater rising coming but not before immense suffering.
The sword Mary was told would pierce her heart is soon on its way.

For most religious leaders cannot tolerate Jesus' lack of respect for them.
Calling them whitewashed tombs and pointing pride out to Pharisees.
Not endearing Himself with the establishment, but following God's way.
Knowing soon He'd be betrayed, arrested, tried and tortured brutally.

Still, he calmly feeds them body bread and blood wine in a final feast.
Tells them the Spirit comes, and prays they'd be one like Father and Son.
Heads to the Garden, prays to His Father for another way if possible.
Your will be done ends and the soldiers come and with Judas kiss it's done.

The most pure, innocent Man who's ever lived is now in hostile hands.
A trial by dark without witness or any rights – and off to Pontius Pilate.
Then Herod then back to Pilate whose wife dreamed Jesus was innocent.
But the people's cries to crucify win over – Jesus caught in intrigue's net.

The child of Bethlehem now hung on a Cross between two criminals.
The Light of the World by darkness and our sins is being slowly slain.
Feeling forsaken by God, but then "Into Your hands I commit my spirit."
Reunited and soon to show the world that this Child was no ordinary one.

Risen as Jesus predicted, for how can death conquer everlasting, perfect life?
From childhood to adult not one sin, not once yielding to Satan's temptations.
Proving we can have life eternal if we confess and believe in Jesus as our Savior.
Calling His followers in risen form to await the Spirit and share Christ to the nations


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Chocolate Heaven

Happiness surged within her
As she slowly kiss his finger tips
He whisper and sighs!

“Make me hard with your eyes.
My chocolate heavenly prize
Grant a dying man his wish”
“ all I need is you”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MY ONLY LOVE by Anna Lo PH

"MY ONLY LOVE" (BENIM TEK ASKIM)

"Lost in my solitary confinement
of being alone in this battle
waiting and hoping that someone will come and rescue me
and this loneliness will never drift me back to the deep sea.

True love I have been waiting for in a lifetime
has come right before me unexpectedly
but my fears and doubts of your coming
had led me to reach out to you still with uncertainties.

Now that you are in my reach
My life has never been so complete
Just you and me are all there is
Nothing else, just you and me.

Feeling uncertain of your love for me
sometimes makes me wonder of what you truly feel
maybe it was just me who wanted this coming
because you never said what you really seek.

And the moment I fear has finally come
To be alone again, back to where I've been gone
You are there and here I am
still wondering if we could ever be the same again.

Someday, I know that our paths will cross again
the connections we had can be restored and mended
Fate and destiny will bring us back closer
You and me together until forever.." 

...Eger seni ne kadar çok sevdigimi bir bilsen...
Seni cok ama seni Seviyorum.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HIM of Praise

 HIM of Praise 
HIM of Praise 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
1one70four4 
 life; broken 
used unwashed homeless tired sad hurt questing for an answer, yes it is HIM 
who loves me JESUS. The answer to every question. ABOVE every other namme 
the HIM who seems so far away and yet eye find the love is still in evidence the 
richness in the finding.  Love is given never taken the takers and the shakers 
come to HIM and get dumbfounded, the poor questors will still receive 
communion.  Live is a mobius stripped not the start of the cradle to the grave 
sinfilled natural disaster somewhere in my timeline lies uninterrupted salvation. 
HIM who loved me also called me to tell his people of HIS namme. HIM who 
loves ewe also needs ewe to call on HIM in fear and trembling YES and then to 
drop the fear of days gone bye and love HIM for YES HE loves. HIM who writes the 
names in BOOK of LIFE loves all of us the namme of JESUS the namme the 
namme is JESUS. HE who brings us life also brings us days then HE adds them 
to our lives. JESUS. HIM of Praise. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Present for christmas

Oh what fun its  going to be shopping,In a joke shop for the clown of a poet.   
Can you guess who deserves a whoopee cushion. 
No-one but the clown of P.S. Jack  Ellison. 
Who turns my smiles to full on laughter.  
Hope your not blamed for the noise it emits


Today I am looking for something special. 
For the lady that always says nice things to one and all. 
Encouragement is her midde name.  
So here I am looking, for the perfect jewel on a chain,  for one of P.S. jewels Anne -Lise Andresen you are there for everyone, so I thought an amethyst footed the bill

This present is for Vienna, this was the hardest of all,  
She is  so much a lady I didn't want to fail.  
Perfume seemed the answer, not too heavy but a hint of spice.
 It will  match her poetry and  comments, hope she will like it.
Thought Charisma, was  the perfect  name.


Next I have chosen to buy something small for Poet Destroyer, 
ha ha with a name like  that i thought of something sharp and violent.  
But no this p.d. Is a  lamb.  
So I have  bought her a scarf  long and  fluffy so she can huddle in  it.
As she contemplates her next contest.


Finally,  oh my I have left this present  til last, 
not sure of  his tastes and dislikes, 
well I looked at a pen but thought  no 
thats not right.  He uses a computer to do his writes.  
Then I saw it the advert for a  balloon ride,  so up up and away will go "the scribe."


Well thats  5 pressies for sure. Hope they will  all suffice,  
cos thy were all bought with thoughtfulness. 
Have fun one and all. 
If I haven't bought for you, your next on my list.  
Come next fall.
. 





Details | Prose Poetry | |

River Jordan

Everyday I wake, I bathe in the river Jordan: taking with me the dirtiness from the yesterdays. Repeating the same sins, that were never washed clean. Reenacting the past and all its ways.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sacred Mother Earth- Colors Of Nature

Oh Great Woman of all Nature
  Mother of our Divinely blessed, sacred Earth
Your beauty has kissed my lips
  with the splendor of your clear, sapphire skies
 

The golden, moon bathed Sands
  that are gently caressed
 by your crystal blue clear flowing rivers
Your gentle rain that ascends from the Heavens above
  to delicately soothe and blend
with tears that flow from the broken hearted
 

Your moist, emerald green hills 
 filled with enchanting, lovely flowers 
of every elegant shade and hue
I have beheld the splendid beauty…
 of your green weeping willow's gracious bows and limbs
of iridescent greens and golds
that whisper gently in your swaying, languid winds
 

I have witnessed golden eagles fly so gracious and free
  in your pictorial, periwinkle blue skies
I've feasted my eyes on the sublime splendor
  of your enchanting, golden harvest moon
as its elegant beauty paints a rose, gold, splendid image 
  so deep within my mind
 

All your violet-blue endless horizons
  Your smoky, gray mountains so grand
in the rose blue cool light of dawn
  Your chattering bird songs in skies of azure blue
The fragrant scent of amber gold pinecones
   in the sparkle of the crystal clear early morning dew
 

I pay Ode’ to you Great Mother Nature
  for every golden ray of sun that warmed my skin
that hangs brilliant and dazzling...
   in your glorious skies of cerulean blue


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BRING THE ALARM

Time Check..clock's not working
Weather Status.. the wind's blowing
Self Check..been a lethargic
Mind Status..still in nostalgic.

Everything doesn't seem right
Still holding, what maybe right
Must not fight, it isn't a bout
Ring the bell, to say Timeout.

Funny thing, I don't get it
Now it's just a sadness to beat
What seems to be joy then
Can't barely move on, until when.

Time Check..clock's not working
Weather Status.. the wind's blowing
Self Check..been a lethargic
Mind Status..still in nostalgic.

Tic-Tac-Tic-Tac, set the alarm
So I can go back to where I'm from
Tic-Tac-Tic-Tac, bring the alarm back
With you holding it, then I know you're BACK!!

...WAKE UP!!!...





 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
romantic,
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
me
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
flame,
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FINAL BLOW by Anna Lo P

..To miss, not to miss
..A Love, not in bliss
  Tight hug, Sweet kiss 
  This one, I'll miss..

..Heart is in abyss
  Mind is in freeze 
  Body badly decrease
  Soul not in peace..  

..Time again ticks
   Like eyes that blinks
   Breath sounds like a hiss
   Must be done with this..

..It'll be the last piece
   Make it short, don't tease
   Lonely hug, Sad kiss, 
   My final blow to this...

..Don't do this,
  I say please..
  Final line is
  Just like this ...................................+
 
P.S.. I forgot, I have 9 lives, am saved by this! YES!!!
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ALL I DO

Dream dream dream

My life full of dreams

All I do is to dream

And each day I walk in the reality of my dreams

(C) 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Beatitudes

What is it you crave? Song? It has not been long enough for my breath to play 
stealth in dedication of love gone. I know you know this love life was designed for 
persistence to glow and life to grow, allow the prosperity without surrender and 
show your face with graceful smiles. No disgrace or shame nor exiled blame, only 
pride of a love you think fondly of. Walk at my side, your soft hand inside the grip of 
mine and sunshine lights our desired path; through breeze we share a laugh. The 
calm trees shade hurt that recedes un forgave back through root to dirt. Supply my 
mind with wine then subside and be my love divine, know my thoughts at all time; 
show my hands the knots upon your spine and unwind my love. Bygone pressure 
forgot, collapse and gasp your breast on thy chest strain the hasp that holds the 
heart lock. The door is open, so without knock enter and I will be there; fair in offer 
of kiss and vows of forever. Yes, you are my wish.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ashes and I

She's been kicked to the ground in the dust of despair , kicked in the ribs by human hyenas...
When trying to stand up she was stepped on like a cigarette butt
...and Time threw at her the acid of aging in an unexpected attack.
She never complained to the outside of her Soul. Dirt could be hosed  down and she never needed ribs anyway:
 She was one with the rhythm of Nature in Spring
                                                                       and knew how to blossom despise desert winds.
 We rented a boat out of a Pacific harbor.
 I sat next to her for one hour ride.
We whispered and giggled memories of childhood while two whales accompanied us echo-locating our Soul.
"It Was Time!"
The motor went mute as clouds dissipated like a curtain, the Sun - the only stage light - focusing on the monologue of a sad. lonely life.
I picked up the urn, a silver  Deja Vu.
My wings started to tremble as I was struggling to open the container.  How can you grab and unscrew the lid of your Life wearing feathers from Heaven instead of fingers?
I whispered the Captain to help...
It was time for me to throw myself into the beloved Pacific ocean. It only lasted for a few seconds until I made contact with the tears of the dead. I have never imagined how heavy my ashes were. . I felt nostalgic but, oh,  so very light...
We both said: "Farewell" to the lonely captain with blue tears in his eyes ...
 he accelerated disturbing the balance , he was  mad with the world
but still willing to anchor on Life...



Iolanda Scripca


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Hopeless

Every night she paints the sky a little darker,
blotting out stars that she’s given up on.
Burning balls of dust that her imagination can
no longer shoulder. Someone else can have
their light; Someone with a little hope left.
She’d rather draw in grey scale memories,
outline them in crimson. It’s a little more 
realistic that way; contemporary at least.
The few last glowing bits in the horizon
give all that is needed for the final strokes
of her legacy. 
A promise to herself,
                               A tribute to the fallen,
                                   A gift for those who are sure wander onto the    
                                    path that she found, so long ago.
 
"Maybe it will save them.
                                     Give them what they need to find their way.”
 
She lay her brush unto the stone before her,
and let the grass take the blood from her hands
before she reaches out.
One final star shines in her eyes,
the only one left to guide them home.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Golden Fertility of the Harvest

He is the sinking of the final red orange sun of the glowing summer 
Warmth no longer oozing and seeping into the pores as I lie bare under the skies 
Jeweled dewdrops on the morning grass to dampen bare feet all softness under  
And the shimmer on the surface of the lakes like the diamonds in your eyes 

He is the golden cusp pf Autumn's Fertility 
The ritual dance of the scarecrow in the breezes 
(Straw coming loose and flying towards you, most certainly 
will brush up against you and tickle before he ceases)  
 
And this thinner less lumpy all seeing scarecrow  
Seems to be in no remorse: his knowing face will always grin  
And his arms will always be raised in a wave to show 
He will protect the yellow brown stalks that bend before him 
 
He is the crisp wind that caresses the crinkled foliage 
Their rustling like long flowing skirts on a 1940s ballroom floor 
These winds chill the fingers and toes and your face with the stinging red roses  
Yet when winter beckons the retreating light, we will be frozen at its core 

He is silent snowfalls and many winter moons  
And the brown earth beginning to expose itself  
The uncoiling of green and mud beginning to ooze  
And all new life breaking free from its fragile shell


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What if I Kissed You

A kiss, a kiss was all I asked for, symbolizing my undying admiration of you as a whole, tainting your lips with ones that have whispered sweet nothings to your ears, ears that I made stand on their toes for the unexpected, becoming more apprehensive, but so much has happened in the past few days, if there's one thing love's taught me, it's that kisses tell a million tales. What if I kissed you right now?.. would it bring us any closer or would we just part like the red sea, would our worlds as is hereafter speak of nothing but the good and our love grow to be as unexplainable as she.. what if I kissed you.. affections expressed in a moment where pet names linger across lips unrelenting. Eyes meet and faces draw together while our minds orbit elliptical periods around one another, deem it a solar system, stop the music like i stole ya rhythm &say we lost ourselves in the heat of our own passion, passing days by enveloped inside ourselves slow dancing to the beat of our hearts. Holding you close like I'd die letting you go, thinking, what if I kissed you right now... Could we make clocks stop till judgment day and be lovers in and out of time like Angelou stated, would be morph to the brink of combustion just being overwhelmed by each others touch, or would we just be? Never afraid of lions tigers and bears, but I cant help but fear becoming so sick, so sick of love sons turned penetrating enomolies like your kisses which obtained keepsake as a copious mannerism in my everyday agenda.. &writing this while you're asleep gives me all the comfort of a fourth wall closure, kissing your forehead as you lay on my shoulder thinking if only i'd done that while you were awake. but she&I were unceasing, so the kisses we'd share were even more memorable than Victoria's best kept secrets...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand
on this land
o' dear life, 
until the end

o' dear thought
of comfort

seed my life
feed me not in strife
bleed me joy from nine to five

lead me a journey of phases
a journey of ages
to face this

germinate in me a corn
of survival 
a history of possibilities
a record of living to afford
a source to live

for this life 
is a choreographer of life
a propeller of existence
an economy of spiritual commodities

a tear drop of opportunities
yet not so many does see its commonalities
an event of anomalies and regularities

lead me a way o' dear life
carry me a sledge on a journey of life 
a terrain of survival and life

a gemstone for many
a pentagon of any
a model of penny

an artwork of joy

a string of life on a journey
a script of many
a stanza of any

opn08022012/0106

from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey', 
february 2012 

>> ntema's unique poetry (nup) 
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lead-my-hand-o-dear-life/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apparitions

A stone bridge in the middle of a wood, static in eternity, grand in height and darkened by the growing night. 
Upon it sits a man, his legs and mind yearning for the ground below. He is a good man.
His mind overthrown by rage, his cause forgotten by the rest of them, his paltry family and  buried friends.
A stranger approaches from the dark to cross the stone structure, he is old and unafraid, for the hour was late.
"It is dangerous to be seated up there, do you plan to fall?"
Yes.
"What have you done?"
Done?
"Yes, what have done that is so wrong that you must fall?"
Nothing, I have done nothing.
"Then why?"
The hour is late, my mind destructive, I am alone and have succumbed to hatred.
"Hate. Is it not close to love?"
I do not know.
"Then allow me to tell you."
I will not, for you do not know me.
"Have you said your farewells?"
Farewells are not needed, why must you talk? I wish to be alone.
"I talk to you because you are here. It would be strange for me not to play the enquirer. Have you loved? Have you lived? Have you felt all emotion?"
Questions are not needed. Be on your way.
"As you wish."
The old man walks into the freshly grown darkness, until he is gone from sight, his footsteps sound no more. His questions now ever present.
A stone bridge in the middle of a wood, static in eternity, grand in height and illuminated by the growing morning.






Details | Prose Poetry | |

Skyping with Satan


Me: Since Samhain I have been chatting with Satan on Skype..On this date he celebrates his fall from grace..

Satan: Thank you Ken..You look marvelous today..What is your routine? You haven't aged in years...Is it diet and gym, the ladies and your erotic poetry?

Me: You are way too kind..(blushing)

Satan: Really, I enjoy your sense of eroticism, you have a fondness for the ladies I see..You should read "Justine" by my friend the Marquis de Sade..In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice...

Me: Are you saying it is only through pain one can arrive at pleasure?

Satan: I'm saying you are unhappy because you desire things that cannot be..That's what desire IS, the need for what we cannot have..It's called greed...

Me: I have nothing to fear here..

Satan: Well Ken, there's always the truth..Maybe peace is acquired by the currency of loss..You are in love with perception..I have many friends here in hell with me you may have heard of, Anton Lavey, Aleister Crowley, Adolf Hitler among others..You should meet them..

Me: No thank you, I prefer to "Fear and Tremble" like Kierkegaard..I was taught your greatest truth was convincing the world there was only only one of you..

Satan: You know God loves you..

Me: Is that why you take interest?

Satan: You seek a measure of comfort from Women..Don't you know that love is the laziest theory for the meaning of life?

Me: But was not Faust saved in the end by the love of a woman?

Satan: I will not elaborate on your misconceptions..

Me: I'm just an ordinary human being with flesh, blood and bones..Nothing hard to decipher.. I wish for women and have needs..

Satan: They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions..Charming saying really..I say it is paved with intriguing questions...

Me: It is late, I have to go Mr. Satan...What time is it?

Satan: How much time do you need?

Me: No thanks..lol I have to go....
~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Holy Passion

ALERT: A carpenter's son is loose in the Temple
Birds flutter, animals hustle, merchants scream.
The zeal for Jesus' Father's house consumes Him
As the place for foreigners to pray had become a zoo.
 
ALERT: A prophet is setting up for a Baal battle.
Baal's priests even cut themselves yet no fire.
After taunting, Elijah fills his altar with water.
Calling on God, fire consumes and people bow.
 
ALERT: An old man is building a huge boat ship.
Without a cloud in the sky and only son's to help.
When finished the animals come on call to board.
Rain starts, doors close – 8 saved by holy passion.
 
ALERT: Jesus is telling a tax collector he'll join him for dinner.
Heedless of the Pharisees despising and the crowd's surprise.
Zacchaeus totally changes – offering to multiply stolen money.
A single sinner saved multiplies even more this holy passion.
 
ALERT: Peter plus are preaching in the Temple again.
After being imprisoned for just that, now rearrested.
Whipped by the authorities, the disciples rejoice -
For they've been counted worthy to suffer with Christ.

ALERT: Daniel's praying openly even after it's become illegal.
The royal advisers gleefully have the king throw him to the lions.
Strangely they don't seem hungry till after Daniel is pulled out.
So the king openly praises Daniel's God for this amazing miracle.
 
DOUBLE ALERT: Jesus is talking to a Samaritan woman!!!!
Breaking cultural barriers to share the message of salvation
To her who has been married 5 times and is living with the 6th.
She believes he's the Messiah and brings the town to Christ!
 
ALERT: Paul's going back into the same town that stoned him.
He's preaching again after shipwreck, jail, beatings, and such.
Persecution seems to encourage Paul that he's doing the right.
Passionately following the Savior who turned Him 180 degrees.
 
ALERT: Bible translators burned at the stake for God's Word.
Missionaries avoid death and disease long enough to share life.
Stirring Holy Passion in receptive people who repeat the cycle.
Changing cultures in bondage into those sharing Jesus' love.
 
ALERT: What passion has the Lord put on your heart? Mine?
Can we pray to see His will find its way in our everyday lives
So the lost shall see, hear, find Christ and grow to share Him?
Eternity is forever, this life is not. Fill us Lord with holy passion.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Has No Reply

Love has no reply-it just waits- 
love has no reply - it just prays- 
Love understands- as it hopes 
that rage will be quelled- 
  
That the core of your heart will 
be overwhelmed- 
and overruled-Disenchantments 
of the venial mind-are allowable 
If you never intend to exhale- 
then inhalation is inevitable. 
  
Demons seek company - 
Presenting illusions to keep misery 
side tract' in sorrowful elegies 
  
The cardinal mentation-will automatically 
tick when you tock -- 
Tock when you tick- 
You came here with no instructions-- 
Love requires no action 
Does not have to reply 
  
No matter the jargon 
the meaning of "no"is the same. 
Whether you wax or wane
with wagers parlayed 
invest in the" WAIT" like the yellow light 
"Spread your bet-green light- keep moving 
Not always smart- to bet on a sure thing- 
red light stop wait -think about 
what you're thinking of doing- 
win win situation 
. 
Prior truth is not necessary for 
what is "yet to be believed" 
Permanent solutions 
should never be applied to A   
temporary condition. 
  
The efficacious-ness of the syringe as a method in 
seeking answers to concepts --is horribly ineffective.   
Love has no reply--- No outside stimuli - 
No dos or don't s ... from the I ... 
Strictly and inside Job


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Flame Melds So Slick the Shadows

Brown black centipedes crawl from within the white washed walls  
Their shadows, creeping and quick, are cast througout the halls  
Echoing thoughts bring a crashing sound to my ears, clattering  
Music buried deep evokes what my mind hears, shattering  
 
Rumpled white sky drifts like a melting glacier, carved flat  
Or floats like a wiffle ball hit by this Summer game's yellow bat  
Like this golden silver streak that now threads the monet-like sky  
Emerging fire I behold with my stupored, half-shut eyes 

The breeze tickles my doughy molded face with the stinging red roses  
After a day journeying inward, my shelled body reposes  
Encased like a cracked but unbroken nut, fading after the sun has ripened  
And this hummus colored sun, now amber rose as it sinks, spreads the horizon  

And the surrounding land, its bumpy rough edges and valleys, is slowly widening  


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MORE THAN GOLD

Gold is precious,
I am more precious
Gold is valuable,
I am more valuable
Gold is strong,
I am stronger
What make me more precious?
What make me more valuable?
What make me stronger?
Is I am a being that never quit in the face of fire

(c) 2010 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Rose that Bloomed

One glowing dawn he came ,

With a rose in his hand.

Rain drops were still there,

Though not over him.

“God! He was melting away!

Why are all those clouds about, Mark?

Don’t you know I have always waited for you…

I  waited for you long and long.”

“Dude! My voice left me alone!

Well…my eyes had voice!

It was all transparent with my eyes.”

At last he gazed at me and went away.

Oh! He left me without the rose.

“Well…you  know…

Another day will come.

He will step in.

A new rose will bloom for me.”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Daisy

A single daisy grew along the fence
Standing tall and happy
Among the weeds and scattered yard waste
In the strong sun not yet of summer
And I offered a silent salute
As I sauntered by
Because I daresay
I envied its resolve


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Extraordinary

Everything is alright my life has 
heal in some area I feel like 
sharing this good ol happiness 
of Gods blessing to bring my 
life off the the cold ground up 
to the air and its warm love 
is harmless and a little bitter 
but my heart has many to give 
anit letting what happened to 
me in the past affected what I 
wan't and gotta have come feel 
the soft new meaning to my 
life of renewing improve not 
foolish move so willing never 
perswaing my mind thinks of 
something real and out of the 
ordinary what you see is what 
you get this extraodinay 
personality that I must say I 
adore


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Lost

Love Lost…

Morning star shines down on me
I seek the shade 
The shade of the great oak tree
It casts a giant shadow across both of your hearts
Across mine

The cool breeze blows through the field
Between the rows of etched marble stone
And beyond the blades of overgrown grass
Your resting places I see

In the peace and quiet of the morning
I sit, I stand, I talk to both of you
I breathe; deep
Exhale in a sigh
Unable to fight the tears
Not really wanting to try

I find myself needing to spend time with both of you
But have neither Mother, nor Father
I am no longer a child, but a man?
I am all that you both have made me
Your love and guidance cannot fail me now…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Encompassed in Memory

Cool mountain streams reflect the cobalt blues and greys of sky 		   
Restful twilight with stars scattered as if on a canvas 		   
Fire cloaks the curve of the earth and golden fish swim nearby 		   
Weeping willows in the field sway to an urgent sadness 		   
The gushing wind that stirs etches the land, channels through boundless time 		   
The carved thrust of a mountain range, maybe the Andes 		   
Will challenge the forever yielding sky, vast as the horizon 		   
Where rain batters the window and mists as far as we can see 		   
It is a warm evening in a pub in Ireland 		   
As the songs hover around us, I know this is what it is like to be free


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TIME

Tick tack  on the wall,
Knocking all the wall,
Scaring us all,
Muscling the muscles,
Muscling the morsels in us,
Quickening the finest deep,
The hidden gold of gold,
A dignity of labour,
How loyal and diligent you are,
Precious and precarious,
Dangerous and conspicuous.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!

Running without waiting for anybody,
How impatient could man be,
In your sound you keep man,
In haste at everydawn,
Thou hath in the haste of full dawn,
Desperately desperate,
Anxiously anxious,
Wisely wise are we and you
Preciously precious,
Nothing can be done without you that's obivously obvious.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!


We chose to choose you,
Working to work with you,
Falling to fall with you,
No time no food,
No time no suite,
No time no cheat,
No time no shift,
No time no me,
there is set time for everything,
Mama use to say,
Patience is virtue of time,
that's the way whichever way.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Froze

My heart stop sometimes and then it skips beats what is it 
telling me???

That my life is short and if I don't get you back it will stop 
completely

Come back to me and heal this froze heart of mine take me 
into your arms
and embraces me with this pain 

Give me that nice and understanding part of you bring the 
sun into my darkness of love that I have because 

of you life couldn't be better without use together so open 
up them windows and let the sun shine in

Renew our friendship to inreplaceable pull together the 
strength of love and forever keep use hole


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Confetti of Flesh

 
Would I rather go too slow,

Damp breath feeding the soil, 

worms to grow, an

old mans toil.

 

For me the answer is clear;

Though not today and I hope not here – 

To explode with love and feelings gold – 

Not too young and not too old

Wise enough to see my growth

But not old enough to have outgrown 

My sprit, 

Fun,

this place called home

That’s how to die

 

A confetti of flesh ruptures the Sky.

Feeding the air, water and earth.

Why you ask do I care how I die –

My love, that is the whole reason -

We’re here

to ask why.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Imprints

~ (~) ~ . .. ... .... ... .. . . . ......... ........ ....... ............... ............... ............... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... [[[POEM]]] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0AcHR_0PzU http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkrCMI2fXTo&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OcQ9A-5noM&feature=related Evermore-vivid the-brazen soul confused belittled, frightened... torn - applauding one the other each brimming with pride carried alone by one another, their unholy banter sealing their fate dividing the-majority of-this- world as-it-is and could-be, ruling the day, blaring - as I am finding today now for myself... it to be an-airy and-ever flimsy-refuge that leads only to an even- more-complete, and ever-perfect; ignorance! The simple babbling parades on by beside me down below and-honestly, I feel-it now as well to-be so-futile; painfully-shallow... ! Their muffled-peeps, hopeful-bellows for-freedom, lifting about the day can be heard in-their shells echoing softly the silent cries of the frustrated yet-still-quite- lively, Mama Bluebird! Father-keeping-watch high-on-a-tree next-to-them close- by - weeping - She wails now I see there's movement. Some children run, tripping over-themselves always falling as they go... welded- together their-souls-purpose gracious-eyes granted-them from their greater origin sewn within them held back forced down further within them, yes... kept shut, each by the hands of the other it's a cumbersome, fruitless proposal over time, but for myself I know hope itself lye open for all each a life of quiet joy; and tender moments of-ponder - but they won't see now like me the wondrous moment sadly, when first each new tiny little Bluebird, imprints their flection of-themselves; for themselves, of their Father and Mother; God, the world, each other - still I pray, can only hope someday they take the time truly; it's-quite-enlightening! [[[Author Notes]]] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdTBml4oOZ8&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sF1hIaHKANk&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xLdpM01inM&feature=related "Link below; man physically disabled ("He's "BIND!") proving that sometimes the weakest-proof; is visual-site; because of mans "DISABILITY" he in fact feels; even more-so - what He sings." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbGKQ8YASCY ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~(~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Awakening

AWAKENING

From behind the curtain

with boldness and grace,

she glides onto the stage…

Awakening

"How beautiful!"  "Gorgeous!"  "So elegant!"

The audience applauds her appearance.

"Is it me they speak of, and not someone else?"

Awakening

She opens her mouth; all eyes are upon her.

Her words soothe their ears like a song.

"What I have said, do they truly understand?"

Awakening

The last line is spoken; she begins to take a bow.

A tear forms in her eye.

"Is this all there is?  Is this the end of the story?"

Awakening

Life can seem so empty when we expect too much.

Many times things are not what they seem.

Keep searching though, do not give up hope…

seek the truth…for it is there that your light shall beam…

Awakening

Felecia R. Weber, January, 2014, www.onthewingofadove.com


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Moments to Reflect Forgotten Valentine

 Moments to Reflect 2/5/2013
                                              The forgotten Valentine
The Lord is my shepherd and the keeper of my hope and dreams. I hold Him close to my heart so that we are never far apart. The love of my life and in this I take delight. His light will always be seen in me in all things that I do. The way I walk even when I talk. For it is not what inside of you that defiles you, it’s what comes out. 
My trust in the Lord is sight unseen and it is my faith that keeps me clean. My problems may be many but there is no need to worry; because my belief is just too strong. Can’t you see that in Jesus, you will not go wrong? Your love is so pure and clean it gives life new meaning; Rose are red, reminds me of the blood you did shed and violets are blue there no truer love than you. There a song in my soul that sends my spirit high and I will praise Jesus until the day that I die; in doing this I know that I will be by His side. Keep in mind of what Jesus divine nature is not all mine and it not hard to find. It’s the gift that the Father has given to all of mankind.
Now I tell you about a Child that was born in glory, salvation was the pearl that was bought into this world and this is His story. To the poor and the despaired He gave hope and healing, with His power reveling. Love and praise the people did give. All that He wanted was for us to stop sinning. To you I give a thousand roses and a million kisses for you are a truly my blessing. The dead He did raise, and life He gave. Those that were in power never did they honor; but instead they fear the One who was foretold as the prophecy before their eyes was unfolded. Crime they cry and this was the lie that sentences our savior on earth to die. A thousands tears is not enough I fear; so in my heart I will hold you dear.
From the Heaven to the earth He came to teach us a way, from the earth to the cross, a debt He paid, from the cross to the graves, from the grave to the sky He ascended home to His throne. There He sits waiting for those that he paid that prices so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. Having faith and trust in the Christ you will find an everlasting life free from suffering in a paradise. You will always be my Valentine love.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Transformation

Life escapes me; 
Moving beyond my control;
My heart broken
     in a million tiny pieces;
The wounds are deep;
Evading every part of me …

But, Love begins a healing process
Deep within my cocoon
Gently soothing, healing deeply
     in the painful places …
Will I trust?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Want To Be

To want to be

is the answer

to the questions

of what's the use

and what's the point

of living

 

I want to be

 

Do You?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Contrast

Pharisee went into the Temple to pray
Sure of his goodness and love for God
He prayed confidently about his deeds
Fasting, tithing, praying, He did faithfully
 
This man was glad when the sinner came
Into the Temple with eyes downcast.
For it gave a perfect contrast to himself.
So he thanked God he wasn't like this sinner.
 
Sinner was bowed so very low before God.
"God have mercy on me a sinner." he whispered.
No list of good uttered, as he could see none.
Jesus said Sinner not Pharisee was justified.
 
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus over to eat.
Simon didn't have servants wash Jesus feet
He didn't kiss Jesus or draw near for fear,
Fear of what others Pharisees would think.
 
In came a sinful woman with unkempt hair.
She wept at Jesus feet without looking up.
Carefully she wiped these feet with her hair.
Simon was now sure Jesus was no prophet
 
A prophet could surely tell she was a sinner.
How could he let her touch him that way?
Reading Simon's thoughts Jesus taught.
Using this contrast in real life as a lesson.
 
He asked Simon if there were two debts
One greater, one lesser and both forgiven.
Who would feel greater love and gratitude?
Simon replied, "The one whose debt was greater"
 
"Correct" said the One who would pay all debts.
Those who know their debt to God is great.
Are filled with greater love toward the Savior.
Simon showed he had little need for the Christ.
 
But to the woman. Jesus said, "You sins are forgiven."
"Go and sin no more." She stood free and esteemed
Precious are those who come humbly to the Lord
He will forgive and welcome them to His Family forever.
 
Humility. Pride. Contrast. Mixed in all of us.
People who come to God feeling worthless, Christ lifts up.
People striding in proudly, Jesus humbles to allow entry.
For the Lord's Kingdom's door is incredibly low.
So low that we enter only through true confession
From the heart to Jesus as Savior who humbled Himself
Coming down from glory to earth's mess to make a Way.
By humbling Himself on a Cross – Universe's God tortured.
 
Jesus contrast makes ours seem small – so why wait?
May we take the humble road to Life, risen Christ made.
Joining God's family of forgiven, freed, joyful sinners.
New life's contrast with old will grow as we follow Him.
 
By a thankful sinner now saint by Jesus' grace


Details | Prose Poetry | |

grin

The sound of us breathing heavy, the windows of the Oldsmobile sweating as I worked my hands up your shirt. The beads you got in New Orleans. Venturing beyond the tan line. Feeling the softness as we slow danced, grinning, with my chin just off your shoulder. Buying you that scoop neck sweater for Christmas. Pressing my ear tight, listening to your heart. The off the shoulder dress that left me speechless; “My eyes are up here” you said with a playful smirk. Despite our deepest affection some things are taken; and yet, some are unshaken. As I caress and kiss your scars, it is you that makes me grin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

INTIZAAR

Hazaar khuwahishein hazar khuwaab 
Hazaar rustey hazaar sarab 
Hey kitni aankhein jo rusta deykhti hein ab bhi ..
Hey kitney diye jo julney k muntazir hein abhi ..
Hein kitney log ..jo khali daman ..
Khali haath …chultey jatey hein
Waqt key hathon zindagi key rustey kut tey jatey hein
hein kitney rung..
Jo abhi zindagi key khanon mey bhurna hein baki 
Hein kitney manzar jin ko abhi ubherna hein baki 
Yeh sooni aankhein ..yeh khali haath…
yeh udaas chehrey ..adhoorey saath
Aatey jaatey manzaron sey poochtey hein pata apni manzil ka
Apni zindagi key hasil ka..
Kiya yeh udaas chehrey ..khali hath 
Kisi ka sath payengey kabhi …ya ..
Intizaar ki aag mey jul ker ..
Matti mey miljayengey sabhi …!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forever You by WLM created on March 20, 2011

You are the one I want 
Forever and again
To brighten my day
In each and every way
You shine as bright as the sun
With the streaming rays which fall to the earth
And your smile is as beautiful
As the stars at night and the moon so bright
With you in my life
I will have not strife
Our lives will be so content
No matter where we have went
Our love together
Will last forever
You make the dark clouds go away
With each and every passing day
There are only a few
Whom are just as you
You are perfect in every way
And this is how you will always stay
I know you will be mine
For now and for all time
We will follow the line
Our lives together will be so fine
Our love will always be new 
For me and for you



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Every day

Somehow I wake
and test every day’s resolve
To implant a view in me of a rising sun
and a moon that swims quietly alongside
So shadows can spread 
and it can state its resilient case
Quietly
I ponder the case of life
Its persistent quest to quell protest
And derive a quizzy thought 
from mundane efforts to exist
And ask why we cloud in mystery
this endless dance to spell a trance
and call tomorrow new

It shines the evil of man
And the hesitant flowery question of life
That turns sprightly 
and leaves all answers unheard
It turned my loves around
till my heart quizzed me blind
A testy anguish later
it cried and left me a note
 
That it must leave my world
and craft a new forbidden love
while I twist a storm
into hope
that grows every day I wake


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Where There Is Honesty

Where There Is Honesty

Where there is honesty,
there is trust.
Where there is trust,
there is freedom.
Where there is freedom,
there is fulfillment.
Where there is fulfillment,
there is wholeness.
Where there is wholeness,
there is giving to others.
Where there is giving to others,
there is relationship.
Where there is relationship,
there is community.
Where there is community,
there is growth.
Where there is growth
…we flourish.

It is a beautiful thing to witness when such a basic human need
 blossoms into something we all desire.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fire and the Warrior

Out of the fire,
Life grows.
The flames burn strong, 
Bold,
And sear my soul.
My heart grows faint,
Weary.
The pain,
The intolerable pain,
Burning.

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
I will fear no evil in the flames,
Searing,
Searching,
To cleanse my soul;
To release the Light
In the dark night
of my soul.

In the fire,
Love brings forth life
Out of pain;
Darkness exposed;
Evil released;
My heart cleansed
Set free;
Life grows.

Shall I endure
For lessons to be learned
And freedom to obtain?
Shall I wait upon the Lord
To be set free?
Will I persevere?

The Warrior rises up;
To fight;
To endure;
For victory is sought.
Out of fire
New life grows.

The journey long
And narrow is the way.
The day becomes night
My heart weary
Loses might;
Becoming faint;
Despair.

The Warrior,
Champion of my soul
Rises up,
To fight,
To endure;
To persevere;
For victory to claim.
Out of the fire
New life grows
Giving rise to hope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When Alone

When skies are bluer than ever before
and clouds disappear from sight
I am alive
When thunderstorms flash white
and the rains come
I am alone
When daffodils burst forth from the snow
and crocus peep through
I am alive
When winter cold and trees barren
and leaves lie on frozen floor
I am alone
I want to face life's storms
with friends who hold my hand
and family who clearly states,
"You are not alone"
Then, I will live.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BENIM TEK ASKIM by Anna Lo P

BENIM TEK ASKIM by Anna Lo P

 "Verloren in meiner Einzelhaft
 vor dem Alleinsein in dieser Schlacht
 Wartens und Hoffens, dass jemand kommen und mich retten
 und diese Einsamkeit werden nie driften mich zurück in die Tiefsee.

 Wahre Liebe Ich habe in einer Lebenszeit gewartet
 hat direkt vor mir kommen unerwartet
 aber meine Ängste und Zweifel von Ihrem kommenden
 hatte mich zu erreichen, um Sie immer noch bei Unsicherheiten behaftet.

 Nun, da Sie in meiner Reichweite sind
 Mein Leben war noch nie so komplett
 Nur du und ich sind alle da ist
 Nichts anderes, nur du und ich.

 Verunsichert Ihrer Liebe für mich
 Manchmal frage ich mich, was Sie wirklich das Gefühl,
 vielleicht war es nur mir, wer wollte das kommende
 weil du nie gesagt, was Sie wirklich suchen.

 Und dieser Moment fürchte ich ist bereits gekommen
 Wieder allein zu sein, zurück, wo ich schon weg
 Du da bist, und hier bin ich
 noch fragen, ob wir jemals wieder dasselbe sein.

Eines Tages, ich weiß, dass sich unsere Wege wieder kreuzen
 die Verbindungen hatten wir können restauriert und ausbessert werden
 Schicksal und Bestimmung bringt uns wieder näher
 Du und ich zusammen, bis für immer.. "

 ... Eger seni ne kadar çok sevdigimi bir Bilsen ...
 ... Seni seviyorum ... xoxo


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hope Lost

HOPE LOST 

Lost hope and burnt dreams 
Have now but a shell to inhabit
Now reality has sunk in 

To cross a bridge to a place unknown 
Takes ambition and courage 
The two now failed impetus 
That doth humble so

Praise to the man 
Built strong enough
To withstand knocks of confidence
And bounce right back 
With no indication of impact 
Atlas he surely must be 

Hope is a blender of emotions 
Hope is longing
Wanting more 
Needing much 

Hope grinds away at your conscience 
Like a sore tooth 
It contorts your psyche 
Wrecking your inner peace
And takes a while to die 

In a beaten man hope is not lost 
Hope can give him confidence 
And the ability to act with no thought 
Of consequences and trauma 

Despair follows hope 
A multiplier of sorrows 
An architect of self-imposed doom 
Despair hope’s inner skin
Wraps a wanting man in darkness
Numbing him 

Sure footed steps into the unknown
Are but confidence tricks
A sure sign of a mind 
Not wanting to admit defeat 
	
When hope leaves
It stains an individual 
Who’s abandoned dreams reek his environment 
A stench most unbearable 

The man stuck on a park bench
A lost look in his eye
Is the expert on hope vanished 
His only companions being 
His ever present can 
And his inner turmoil

A desperate personification 
Of the what if syndrome 
His hollow eyes impel you to look
But makes you want to flee
Far away from his possibly contagious misery

Nowhere out seems to be the
Theme of his day 
A day which prolongs misery 
Deadening his interaction
With a seemingly unforgiving surrounding

Humbled by imploded aims 
Jarred by thoughts of not good enough 
His ever present pain is his only comfort

Brooding with resentment
He plot his own downfall 
Sinking deeper into the mire of self-pity 
A shattered man is he 
With No care for the world or himself 

Life is but a brutal regime 
Of outcomes imposed on him
Him who has now become a non-entity
A shell of man 
An unseen man is he 

Hope can be a way to set you free
Moving you onward 
Sometimes sadly the shackles of living 
Won’t release you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

For this instant of time

For this very instant of time
I held reality within my hand
I read the meaning beneath the eyes
And just began to understand

So many feelings are still mysterious
For this very instant of time
Yet motionless I know. I'm not alone
The boundary is crusty, still not define

In this humanity just passing through
Another branch in the tree line
For this very instant of time
I hope my clouds will live as blue

And when the heart of life will forever pause
I'll still remember love so kind
In position of prayer on knees I crash
For this very instant of time
From this very instant of time!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Scattering that Comes With Painful Impossibility.

Morning light and time breathing, he slipped himself underneath me as daylight broke,
I fought tears, I fought him, I fought myself and life happened in the midst of refusal...


I fumbled in my pockets for pieces of him when the puzzle of me scattered, I watched
months become rich with memories and curls tangle themselves into shadows against the
moon, I yanked out promises as my elbows bruised and wished my mouth had been sewn shut as
my jeans could erase the treasures that were left by his fingerprints...

Letting go of me and I forced myself to reach too far, I challenged my beliefs for the
taste of him, for the taste of a smile when my eyes were wet with the tears I refused to
let fall and I fell, underneath him, on a Sunday, in June, when we spoke too softly for
the sun to hear us and I don't think summer ever knew I was waiting, I don't think he knew
that I patiently watched my heart break.....


Dawn rose in October, afternoon glared at me from beneath the stars in January and I felt
him again as I wrestled with ideas of why I wanted to, and I wondered what his motivation
was in March, on the night the snow fell without regard for our safety, I almost knew it
couldn't be my curls, I felt I was way too...

...scattered.



I felt him in May, I reached for his hand when our windows erased the nightmares, I lay by
his side and listened to his heartbeat to find my voice and we breathed...

when lips touched without speaking, when eyes locked and closed and whispers danced
through sunbeams, when he told me, from underneath me...

he loved me...

before the sun fell and after heartbreak felt a little bit too much like June.






Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Past Forgotten

I was the delicate love. 
I was the one that fought to be here, 
To be held in your arms, longing to be held in your arms. 
I was the delicate love. 
That you protested for, protected, proclaimed you would never let go of. 
I was the one that fought to be here, not you. 
I have rightfully claimed my grace amongst healers, leaders, gliders. 
Your light is fading. Faded. Gone. You have left nothing for me. 
I was yours,
Your delicate love,
You have left nothing, nothing for yourself but a past forgotten.  

Copyright © Christina Clark


Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Expand

When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future. 
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school, 
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon. 
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet, 
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks. 
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival, 
and unable to accept our own size. 
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again. 
We long for longer conquests. 
The ship vaster than the ocean. 
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,. 
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,. 
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to 
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues. 
Walk. 
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

a love letter

Love is here, then and now;
often hidden, and hard to define.
I have won, and lost, and how
i long again to win your heart for mine.

if i gave up everything i had,
and stand alone in a place forbidden;
still my life wouldn't be so bad;
if i can hold within a hope unbidden.

For you.

i hope and pray, and pine away;
remembering moments gone, and treasured still.
there is no place my heart can run and play,
except around the thought of you, until

With you

in the past, i only knew that you were by my side.
but looking forward, to face our life together,
i missed moments of "your" life; now, wondering if "then",  you cried.
while my life was easy, the world light and airy as a feather. 

when "we" were one, yet i was "me"
tears wonder now, my love, who were "you"
maybe, it's to late, for selfishness was my reality
but today, love, i want to say, anew:

"i was never a "me", never a "we", never could been, or be
never the man, so self assured and confident, so free
never the me that i once was, never so worthy, never so happy
never what i value, never who i loved, never, ever,

could see;

myself, without looking through both our eyes, or through our peers;
and though back then you didn't cry;  there were seldom any tears.
now, i wonder, when i think of you,  as my vision clears,
thinking back, to that moment in time, the lonely and dismal; cheers


i once looked at you (and told you so),
with love, and gratitude.  i was overwhelmed by you.
laying next to me, in my bed and life, a moment quiet and slow.
i felt, deeper, higher, better, my spirit near heaven flew,

with love for you

i never can, never enough, or earnest and sincerely enow;
thank you enough, love you enough, to express my heart.
there is no human "how".
though i'll try again, and here's a start:

for what it's worth,
from "me"
you mean more, than the whole earth
and myself, in the past, that "he"

who didn't often enough look to the side,
and took for granted Gods gift. 
if i had it to do over again, you'd have been my bride.

i love you,
loved you;
never again will i be,
as happy.

as when "i" was "we"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Strange philosophy

i've always been so afraid of flying,
is it my fear of heights,is it my fear of falling?
it's a strange philosophy,
a troubled heart,a shooting star,life's a remedy
for who we are.
oftentimes my hope is fleeting,
so engrossed in so believing,
in who i am ,the calling,
it's a strange philosophy,
that up is down and down is up,
no doubt my truth is your lie,
but this is music,hear the heart.
it's a strange philosophy,
i live in you,you live in me,
you're trying hard to make it,
work it!
you lose your soul and hope it's worth it?
we trusted in whoever we believed,
Jesus died for my own fault,
i heard that all things pass away,
but love like this never fades away.
one last thing,
it is what it is,
a seriously strange philosophy,
all that and so much more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Dedicated in Love to My Little Sister ~ Tina ~ My Songbird ~ (~) ~

Sissy little Sissy... you fought all your days as it were... . But grateful I am because what you left behind for me is the wealth of your heart so-open... precious... unconditional, pure. Yes Sissy with your broken lungs and all, watching the other children run... as they play. Faithful you were though even given the-burden of-this. You knew that in Heaven you'd be able finally yourself to do this, you knew with God everything carries the pleasure, of a brighter day... ! Now I know you are with Him, I honestly believe running like children will run come them in their glory by name, all their days, Monday through Sunday... ! God knows... it was my hope for you-you would be brought to know them in their freedom... joy... yes... their fun... ! You taught me the greatest thing as you sat talking with everyone through those tender moments given you, gasping for-air... ! Knowing, trying to offer them this truth... . Because being merely six and one half at the time still you knew, had been shown this yourself, were grateful, prayed to remain. You knew "Love is patient, kind and generous, heavenly, faithfully-and-eagerly; tenderly-aware... ." And Sissy-too... I believe now given that day you passed... beams of light shining strait on you in your bed in your room, dust gently drifting... . God He came down as the waterfalls do personally picked you up and carried you off to Heaven with Him... ! And I can't wait myself someday as well, yes I can only hope as I pray now to see you there... ! Signed forever grateful: Your brother ~ Jamie ~ Author notes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLRyYETnoIE&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Little Big Man

I was always the little guy, 
Picked on for my size, 
Pushed and prodded in the halls, 
Cowered to nothing by their calls, 

They threw rocks at me every day, 
So I would leave early on my way, 
And wore two coats with hoods, 
Rocks only striking when I stood, 

Sometimes they'd throw boulders, 
And they glanced off my shoulders, 
And then I would come back in pain, 
With yesterdays tear stains, 

Once they crippled me for days, 
Hitting my legs, oh what pains, 
But then my dad took me in, 
And I grew into a young man, 

And two years later I returned, 
And now the tables were turned, 
You see I grew a foot taller, 
And no longer was I smaller, 

I visited those who threw stones, 
And none of them had grown, 
As I did those past two years, 
And I couldn't pay back the tears, 

For I knew their sudden plight, 
They were too small to fight, 
But they soon left my brother alone, 
This was the gift I gained from stone, 

So from bullied to protector I moved, 
And the little ones all approved, 
Of the new big friend they now had, 
And how I stopped those bullying cads.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TAKE ME AWAY

Take me away

To where there is no pain, anguish and misery

From where there is no exaltation of my open wounds

To where the end is welcomed

I search my heart to find the promised place up there 

That place that people pray and yearn to go to

But I can not find it

It is not there nor where I can touch it or feel it

Or is it and I just don’t see it?

I ache for total and complete respite.

Will it come soon?

I can only hope that the

Holy One comprehends the anguish caused by my affliction and 

Comes to my rescue and takes me to his domain, up there, but 

where?  

All I know of the where is His son’s answer:

“Heaven is within you.”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Mustard Seed

Potential full,
This tiny seed;
Encapsulated promises
Not fulfilled;
Unseen.

Watered by Love;
It’s hard shell softens;
Love beckons its release;
    grace extended;
    promises unfold;
    new life to behold,

Yet,
	but
		a
			glimpse
					of new beginning.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ In the Innocence Sublime ~

We lay fallen as velvet roses divinity-promenading in our wake. Innocence sublime weeping still-puddles... blessing-our-first-kiss. Beauty eminent one heart securing all we share-tongues-entwined hopes defined joined together-soaring-free-as-one... a kin to love, swept-away-by-it-we-were... . I believe the heart of grace adamant, generous-tender and-aware honest and faithful- awaiting-patiently... moves freely, because it knows, the-pureness of love always inspires the-opportunity, and so enchantment-gazed upon innocence and desire knew-itself, when-first God showed Adam Eve... ! Now-here today as time has-kept-us in-its ardent-march-I-say I believe-it was-the same with-him back then... . Because simple-smiles day-dreams and quiet eye-beams alone... for me-too-with-you just wouldn't have been-enough, and-when-I-think-of-you, I thank-God for the blessing of our-time, because my heart enchanted, elated, complete... from-here on-out will I forever- know-and be-grateful to-have-loved the-beautiful-angel, that is you. As-so-enticed by the light in your-eyes, the hopeful-manner the-playfulness of your-lips, I tell-you-intrigued, to entwine-them-together, (with mine)... ! I figured I'd have a day to share, and a lifetime, from-then-on, (to touch)... . (if only just), I-could-chance to-embrace them... ((once)). Author notes The hyphens are all used in conjunction-with one-another for recording-purposes for the- disabled... . My Mac computer I can here and as it interprets the differing punctuations it gives the work in there differing usages a clearer and more realistic soft higher and lower Ebb and Flo when it is heard... ! The work can as well be reformatted into proper engine form for those whom may not be disabled... ! Entered into this contest as such and mainly for these reasoning's... ! Thank you for allowing and for considering my entry. I am entirely honored to be a small part... ! Written for my Jenny... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Addicted

My life has dumps and learning experience
and pain but 
I had grown to understand that 
                             this is not the end
I feel that I answer a question 
that's been bothing me for so
                                     long
now my life is smooth 
and almost all
right
now I have 
to heal this 
feeling that

spreads poison inside
bring back that power
 
and marvelous feelings 
that I once had for
                    me love stills a beautiful thing
its not hormlous its lovelous with addiction still
at harmful recovery 

body so a mude to the actions you
serve 

my thinking is you
and my body craved for
you my lips less tasteful
my heart is fighting every man that come close
 to the heart I shared with you
bring back you give me back what I need and thats 
you that keep my soul, world and life alive


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

Silent storms rage within my heart.
Be still!  Be still!
Fear to be fought;
Peace must be sought.
In stillness, Love speaks;
Bringing hope to listening ears,
Reminding weary hearts of bygone years;
     of lessons learned,
     for faithfulness earned,
     to stay the course.

Be still!   Be still!
     when silent storms rage within my heart.
Healing found in silence,
     when listening ears 
     learn to wait


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality coming true

Reality coming true is my dream
As one day I hope to achieve big
Courage eager makes me work like steam
Once I lose a chance I will sit like a pig

I hope to be a neurosurgeon
So that I help a lot of needy people
As I never want to others dreams fall in a dungeon
Since I don’t want problems to stick on them like a pimple

My dream to travel over seas
To see how other people live
I will never want it to be crushed like peas
Since I always work hard so that I will jive

I always dream no fighting war
As we lose a lot of innocent women and men
We will result into family of the lost to fall
As they have no where to write with a pen

I dream a world of no hunger
As most children are suffering a lot
We result into the locals anger
The anger grows until it red hot


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When you're just not thinking

Remorse is building up inside of me,
Everyone has to know fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,
Never thought you could try so hard and still fall short,
I’m in need of something to fill this hole in my chest,
It grows bigger,
Moving deeper,
Making me realize that some things can’t ever be achieved or obtained,
I’m gonna bottle up my heart and let it float out in the sea,
Never to be found,
Never to be seen,
No more pain can be caused when it’s somewhere at the bottom of the sea,
I need to face the fact that I’m going to lose everything if I keep on the path of my sanity,
I want to believe that things can only go up for me,
But that’s life,
Your gonna suffer,
Sitting in the corner rocking back and forth,
Head so low you can see caskets from the recently diseased,
It’ll be pouring showers from all the crying that’s going to be happening,
I know life might seem hard sometimes,
And trust me it is,
I know that shotgun looks shiner by the minute,
And trust me it does,
But just bottle up your heart and send it away,
Like I did,
Because no matter what you’re going through,
What might be going through your head right now,
Just isn’t worth it..



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Wings

Broken Wings


Like a rock falling faster and faster
the force of gravity
reaches out it's arme
and only a second later
someopne lies upon the ground
skin ripped open bones broken
all the was
is now only shattered pieces
that must some how
be picked up
 and put back together
when broken wings mend
change
must
follow
tears dry up and vision becomes clear
feet once again
find themselves
planted on solid ground
and taking flight
no longer seems
just a childs fantasy
step by step
forward motion is made
and fear leaves
finding no place in the heart
when broken wings mend
one must consider flying again
the hand of determination
can be used 
to brush off
the dust of stagnation
The waters of patients
can be used
to wash away
the dirt and grime
of desires
to
give up
give in
and quit
when broken wings mend
we can begin to understand
what it is
to become and old man
or and old woman
and still be striving for perfection
having fallen from the skies
that we call life
many times
we can begin to compreheand
what is ment
having heard the wise say
when broken wings mend
one
must
consider
flying
again

written by
The Poet Michele Dalton


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Creation, Curse and Promise

Since eternity past God the Father Son & Holy Spirit dwelled in unity and sweet fellowship.
Then Three-In-One decided to make a marvelous universe with an earth for life to dwell.
Creating an amazing array of creatures was the easy part – the risk was on the last made.
For unlike other creatures, man & woman were made in God's likeness with a Spirit.

That Spirit communicated with God, and harmony reigned as earth was well cared for.
Freedom to do was great – limited by but one tree that the humans were not to ear from.
At that tree, Satan disguised himself as an innocent snake and asked the woman questions.
Did God really say don't eat from this tree?  Well, that's to keep you from becoming like Him.

Look its fruit is beautiful and one bite and you'll know what God does and be Jehovah's equal.
Eve was confused, for this didn't sound like what Adam said God told her, but wouldn't it be grand.
If God is so good, why would he keep this secret from us of being able to be like Him – is He jealous?
The firm, juicy fruit was indeed delicious, and she quickly called Adam to taste, which soon he did.

A small act? Every war, family problem, anger, hatred, lie, killing, stealing, rape, abuse came herefrom.
The beauty of God's creation was now marred with sin that affected every part with death and decay.
God graciously gave Adam & Eve animal skins for no longer would they live in Eden's perfect climate.
From now on there would be sweat for the food they ate and exceedingly great pain during childbirth.
Even their firstborn would murder their second, starting the cycle of revenge and killing that's ongoing.

Yet God also made a promise that one would come who would crush Satan's head while being bruised.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God" clues us in to who.
For God's Son Himself would come to teach, heal and offer His life on a Cross to destroy our death curse.
Our sins He would bear and in rising He's seal the promise of eternal life, so great we Jesus' love for us.

For Jesus the cost was unbelievably high, and for us the reward is incredibly great – if we but accept.
Accept that I am a sinner, I've done wrong and need God's forgiveness to live with His perfection.
Accept that Jesus can do what I cannot – change my heart, make my Spirit alive to forever live with God.
This being GOD, the promise of heaven and new earth is sure, though pain lies in between.  Choose now.

For GOD and all creation cry out – this is what life is meant for – to know and love One's Maker.
As humans we live eternally with or apart from God, and His great desire is that we choose with.
But just as an earthly Father cannot force true love, nor does our Heavenly Father – He waits.
Though He made all and knows beginning from end, he waits and yearns that we receive His love.

Then love and be loved by Jesus in life's harshness & delight, sharing that love with other lost children
To work in harmony with the One who made us, makes life new again as our spirit is filled with new life.
There can be dry days when we don't feel His presence, and others so full that we want to shout for joy.
The fact is Our Father GOD, our Savior Jesus, the Holy Spirit, are always with us and never will leave us. Amen.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine By WLM November 25, 2008

Sunshine
11-25-08
William L. Moore

Outside the sun is grand
In which I love to stand
Soaking up all the rays
Hope it stays this way for days

The breeze is cool
Like a shining Jewel 
The noise is so quiet
You wish you could buy it 

How heavenly I feel
It tis the real deal
The beauty abounds
As I walk around

The planes fly high
In the deep blue sky
Marking their time
Just follow the line

The tall trees that show
Will continue to grow
And are the trees we love to see
Glory Be!  We will jump up with Glee!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PINKY

Smiles, Hope, Dreams
Joy, Anxiety, Hushed voices
The thrill of the unknown
I lay in wait…….

Opening my heart, ripping apart my sadness
Tugging and lifting my happiness
I know it’s finally here……..

Forgive me if I do not spare you time
Understand me when I smile brightly
The cloud of uncertainty is no more
The rain is gone and the SUN has come

I smile, she smiles
I coo, she coos
I now know she is mine and will always be

She fills my days with untold pleasures and joys
An angel redefined
A pinky in her own shade
The treasure that fits the dig….

She hopes, she smiles
She cries, she sighs
She dreams

“My hand will be your grip,
My feet will be your path,
My eyes will be your sight”
That is my promise.

Arise now!
For your day has come to ascend to occasion
Wear your crown with honor, MY FRIEND!!

Today I pass the challenge over; so you may be finer as:-
A woman, daughter, sister
And someday, Mother…….


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Alabama Snow

The long never ending landscape of southern Alabama never runs cold. Today it decided to. The wind was at 
ease and all the snow flakes were about. The cold ground shuddered beneath me but I could tell it was a good 
kind of shiver. The snow fell down in a hurry yet it still took it's time swaying in the wind. All the snowflakes 
danceing around soon started a low tune far off on the wind. The band played a song that the world has been 
playing for centerys. One of love and peace. One that has no bounds or experation date. The song was cold 
enough to freeze the earth but here I stood warm as I basked in my happieness. The world seemed still as the 
orchestra played it's beautiful tune. The wind swirling and twirling as if it were a finely tuned violin. I couldn't 
bare to close my eyes for it was just to beautiful to look away from. As the wind picked up in it's gusts the 
snow felt ever so heavier and the skys begain to melt the love within the snow as all the snowflakes fell down 
as rain. "What a beautiful conversion" crossed my thaughts. The snowed over feild grew dreadfully quiet as the 
beautiful tune escaped into the wind. This was when I sudenly realized I was soaked and freezing. Almost killed 
me but I steped inside away from the Alabama snow. But I knew she'd come back for me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ballet In The Sky

The whole air is dancing-
     Ravenous thunder rumbles
        Lighting curls her jagged bolts
          flashing like gold through amythyst, sapphire skies

I'll not allow your image to spoil my view
   With you-rain would cry it's droplets 
          as it mumbled whispers to my haunted heart
               Oft' times-rolling clouds rumbled their voices in my soul

                                                                 *~*

Now, I dance in scarlet flames that spark across the heavens
   gliding thru turquoise skies with copious clouds... 
       that delicately clothe my body             
           pirouetting gracefully ...
               to the peaceful harmonic rhythm of rolling thunder

My flesh no longer aches for your barren touch
   I shall not desire your hand opon my beautiful rain drenched skin
       whetted now with golden silken tears

My memory quickens...
      I no longer remember your face or hunger for your sterile love
         I'll not dance to your chaotic rhythm

Nature baited me with her sweet breath
     Embraced me in her loving arms-
         singing her gentle rain of tears

You...
    baited me with your hook of selfish love

My heart now dances with another
     One who bathes my soul in fertile soil
         He feeds me with his hungry, selfless love...

You...
   fed me worms with your stingy heart   



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Scrambled Clues

Scrambled Clues…

Night has fallen
The fog settles over the land
Only in closeness
Can you see the faces
The eyes closed, windows against torrid rain
While ideas flash and beat the mind

Helplessly watching
Waiting for the escalator to reach the top
So you may step into daylight

But in daylight
The fog drifts to the water
Always a step ahead
Blinding me to the depths
Through which I am falling

Please someone
Help me
I am losing my mind
And as of yet not certain,
Even faintly aware,
  Of when night will fall again
  Bringing with it,
  The soothing rain of darkness


For my brother Gregory.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine By WLM November 25, 2008

Outside the sun is grand
In which I love to stand
Soaking up all the rays
Hope it stays this way for days

The breeze is cool
Like a shining Jewel 
The noise is so quiet
You wish you could buy it 

How heavenly I feel
It tis the real deal
The beauty abounds
As I walk around

The planes fly high
In the deep blue sky
Marking their time
Just follow the line

The tall trees that show
Will continue to grow
And are the trees we love to see
Glory Be!  We will jump up with Glee!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

UNTITLED

Reflections of the past
should be embraced.
Whether good or bad,
they increase the focus
while still at this place.

It is up to us from which
memories do we build.
In turn it brings forth
within us which was instilled.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

3Fable5

 3Fable5 
3Fable5 
 
Winter Survival 
 
CharlaxFabels 
 
In the Winter of 83 they used to tell me stories the snow was over the telephone 
lines and they rode horses there and walked them OVER the lines see eh? Oh 
ewe beware the stories of men and read only the charlaxfabels over and over 
again. The worst one was back in 2005 the snow was four feet deep they took 
machetes and tore my roof off my survival tent. 
1 Peter 3:9 
 Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this 
you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. 
Eye moved my shelter somehow avoiding a fight and learned just to survive 
survival is eating food. Men eat and fight and eating becomes the more important 
of the two what kind of neighbor would eye be if eye had fought with thee and not 
learned the Golden Rule. Eye lived several different lifetimes sack lunches do not 
suffice to rule the hunger in one man. Once eye was worried for existence 
seeming Death was at my door. Women thought me evil not suited up just for 
they love. Fruit is not my forte orange apple even pomegranate found 
persimmons rot on vines in trees not meant to live. Eye ate so many meats they 
kicked me out of storeage land and chased me from the parking lot with nothing 
in my hand. Potatoes is a fruit and not a veggie in my world. Golden throbbing 
corn is afforded to the poor ed.note @39 cents a can at most retail outlets. 
Hominy both gold and white is my favorites. Eye just decided to detective the 
students many behavioral ways and iff eye had three classes in the afternoon 
even if they were staggered over SIX hours the eye would not be in the library 
more than thirty minutes at a time. Be that as it may or as it were the ending is 
the same eye am a student of life. Walk in an endless path with snow up to the 
waisted place then dry the socks in bags and tie them to the feet and hope the 
dry will stay to un rot the flesh and hope the shoes will work and not develop 
sticheing of the holes in the side of doors and tankards full of glass. Coyboy is 
the last to understand a memory taken in the hand. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TUESDAY MORNING

A splinter of golden sunlight seeps through the
Still-settling haze. I can see it through a crack in the rubble
Where pieces of building are precariously stacked
Like the toy blocks of a child. I can feel a sooty powder
On my face. I try to rub it away from around my eyes but
Am unable to do so- my arms are pinned to my sides
By those very same blocks.

Realization comes to me as shock recedes- I slowly recall
The thunderous crash and rainstorm of burning fuel.
I remember, too, trying to get out like so many others; then 
The earth shook and the sky trembled and I was thrown
Into another world. I now awaken in that other world
And am scared. It is a very dark and heavy world.

The acrid smoke of smoldering plastic burns my eyes and nose.
The smell nauseates me. My body aches everywhere,
But I cannot tell if any bones are broken.
I am blanketed by splintered bricks and twisted girders.
Shattered glass stabs me in a thousand places. I 
Hope I’m not bleeding to death. Panic rises in me, but is soon
Replaced by a more basic instinct- the will to survive.

I start to shout hoping someone will hear me,
But all that comes out is a dry throated squeak.
I try again and again, but succeed only in exhausting
Myself. Despair creeps in and I begin to wonder if
This mangled pile of steel will be my grave.

The sliver of golden sunlight darkens, then brightens again.
From what must be miles away I hear the muffled cries of
“Here! Over here!” Soon there is a tapping of a metal rod
sounding against the stone. Another voice speaks, but is 
more muffled than the first. The window of light that told me 
I was still alive goes black. I strain my eyes to see what
Makes it so and I see another eye looking in.
The eye blinks, then disappears.
I hear the excited murmur of many voices. Sounds of
Movement can be heard from above. Metal creaks and
Blocks groan as debris is peeled away. The window of
Sunlight grows until I am able to see the whole sky.
The sky, though, is not like I remember.
Earlier this morning it was clear and blue, now it is
Filled with a black smoke and a powdery haze.

Someone speaks softly saying “Easy now. Easy.”
Strong hands raise me gently and put me on a stretcher.
Words of comfort fall on me like a soothing summer rain.
I say something as I am hurried to a waiting ambulance,
But I fear that in all of the noise and confusion, no one has
Heard my hoarsely whispered “Thank you”.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

JOURNAL ENTRY

I lacked a lot of sleep these past couple of months.

and abandoned the routine I’ve grown so comfortable with

in this time by myself.

I didn’t realize how much slack was in my learning curve lately,

and I was starting to forget how incredible it is to wake up by

hairs being plucked from my arms.

Miracle workers.

My mother is the only one who saw me lose patience.

2 am on the wood floor, sweating like I just got done fighting.

Spewing out questions to God as fast

one would spit out sour milk.

Ground stomper. Neighbor waker.

A lot of people didn’t really like me talking to them during this time,

just like I didn’t like anybody talking to me

when I’m too busy worrying.

I was a jerk.

My swings get triggered far less than ever before

now that I’m more squared up with stability.

I’ve come a long way from a short fuse.

I sure am glad my brother was there to cover for me

while my sanity took a break, and

in the moments I had to check out

because the tantrums in my own mind got too loud.

My own thoughts, or yours. 

Together or separate. Relative or irrelevant.

It has been a roller coaster school year so far

for more reasons than are appropriate to detail herein.

Thank goodness for the true friends,

and the doors of her aunties house

and ice cream, and mindless television on soccer trips,

and family,

and people looking at me like a role model,

and the act of blowing on my little cousins belly,

and my skateboard, and Mother’s Day,

and having food, and graduations,

and getting lost sometimes,

and poetry slam night, and for Steven Brooks.

and for my elephant.

Really y’all, every last one.

L. Cohen said,

“And draw us near

and bind us tight

all your children here

in their rags of light

in our rags of light

all dressed to kill

and end this night

if it be your will.”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Into the Light of the Day

Into the Light of the Day

Front from back who can tell how many lives are changing
Beginning to end
We start and finish time and again
Enter and exit, we come and go but no one knows
Just what it all means to me

Doors unlocked remain unopened for lack of challenge
I only cross where others would not dare look back on
I find intensity in the fight to carry on, at any cost
Survive for you and I, you and I!

Unfinished works lie untouched in the process
But at hand we have created another chapter,
This verse
And tomorrow, saving me from today
Will find this pen in hand
Guiding myself and any believers
Out of the darkness of the forest
And into the light of the day…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

So Much To Live For

SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR…

Night has fallen on us again
The light of the sun has faded for the stars
Against the dark sky
The moon now in its glory
Reflecting through the trees
And every picture tells a story
Depending on who sees

I gaze into infinity
Never reaching an end on the horizon
What goes around will come around
We carry the circle with us through time
Never knowing where to start or to finish
I carry on getting lost in the rhyme
Waiting for the idea to grow or diminish
I’m so in love with life
So deeply in love with you, Adrianne
Sometimes I’m lost, not knowing what to do
Because I want so much for us that up until now
I wasn’t sure we could have
But now, after fulfilling this sacrifice to each other
I know, I truly believe
Everything that seemed out of reach is now within our grasp

You; Adrianne are my strength when I’m weak
And I yours…
You are my anchor when I need stability
And I yours…
You; above all are my life and my love
And with you I can finally begin to live this dream
A dream that begins and ends with you by my side
And I by yours...
Now we can truly live, to make the most of life
The most of ourselves, for each other and our future
That on this night looks so bright and full of promise
Like the moon this night reflecting on the water
My eyes are focused on us, on our tomorrow
There is so much to live for…



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blowing A Kiss to You

Have I told your how many times
I appreciate your poetry? It gives me
a level I can shoot for. I can't thank 
you enough for the many times
your contests have inspired me and
for your help with  a query or two.
Love and light back to you, for you
are helping to create a memorable
experience here at soup 



Dedicated to Debbie Guzzi


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Something about that emo kid

Dear make-up-wearing-emo-kid,

I hope you're having fun. I hope your life is good.
I wish you well, but I'm curious, do you wish the
same for me? I mean, you don't even talk to me
anymore. When you do talk to me, it's to question
me about my sexuality, what clothing I'm wearing
at the moment, basically anything relating to sex.
So, it's hard to tell you apart from those perverted
old creeps you might see on TV, looking up the
skirts of MILF's as they stroll on by.

Dear skinny-confused-emo-kid,
It's not about looks. It's about what's inside.
It's not about sex, it's about the love in a relationship.
It's not about having to lie to me and make me feel
like you love me, because there are millions of girls out there.
I'm not the only one to chase. I'm sure there are lots of other
girls who would just love to let you chase their skirts and
hear you lie to them repeatedly. I'm just sick of it all.
I don't need you, and you sure as hell don't need me.

Dear traitor,
You built me up,
you broke me down.
You got what you wanted.
I hope you're happy.
Wipe the smirk off your face,
I don't care that you've succeeded in making me fall for you
I don't care that you're freaking gorgeous.
I don't care.
I am not your toy.
I am not your slave.
And I am most definitely not your 'baby girl'.
Just because you have my heart doesn't mean that you can control me.
I'm not yours.
I'm my own person.
I'm me.

And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

But never mind that now, I must go. Mother is calling me to come to supper. Until next
time, you traitor.

Sincerely,
A-broken-hearten-clown.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Flowers

Flowers
11-26-08
William L. Moore

Looking at the pretty flowers
Brought to us by the many showers
With all that’s still in bloom
Cast shadows up on their flume

Sitting at the table
Good, willing, ready and able
The scent is so pungent
As we sit amongst it

Lavender, Cherry and Chamomile
Bring forth the feelings that we feel
Sitting in the shade of the hill
The entire world stands still

Dear lord I ask my soul to keep
As I rest my bones and go to sleep
As the shining light shall fade
Another day has been made


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love Found by WLM on March 29, 2011

I need not scream
For the return of my dream
I feel so much better
For from her I received a letter
Her feelings were not of being mad
But of making me feel glad
She still wants me
And that is the way it should be
There was never a great cost
Nor even a feeling of being lost
When I heard from my love
All was still sent from heaven above
She finally did show
And my face had such a great glow
For me she does still need
So for now I will not concede
She still loves me so
In my heart I will always know
To me she will still marry
Now my head is not in a flurry
And a family we will still start
In mine heart I will sing like a lark
As God meant us to see
Together we will always be
In the simple breeze
I will hold her in my arms to squeeze
Now that I have my dear
I will lose all my fear
I have my best friend back
Oh God thank you for that
For with her I have no doubt
Thank you God I will never be without
She has made me so happy I still cry
For in my heart I do not want to die
All the feelings of dread
Have been put out of my head
To her I have so much to give
And for all of that we will always live
We must always treat each so well
My heart can only swell
I feel so young again
And that is where she will begin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Another Miserable Love Letter

Dear Victory Girl from the bay or [dock]

I knew you'd be beautiful

for the sake of the decline...let hedonism take its toll...
Just so I Can Forget

How do you smile like that?

I'm bleeding gallons thinking of your face.

My most sincere pains,shames,claims,and thought about pet names, lie with you

signed-

Unused,and abused


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Audacity

My elementary school was a box full of broken crayons. 
You know, the kind that no one likes to use because they fit inside your hands like a hug that lasts three seconds too long. 
Me and my classmates wore 
hand-me-down smiles. 
They were too big for our faces. We figured that eventually we would somehow grow into the sound of our own laughter, put on our happiness like gloves and wear our skin as if our bodies were made by Louie Vuitton, just hoping to be more than tattered pages ripped from the torso of coloring books.
More than the aftermath of two runaway trains headed to the same direction. Our parents drove their affection without insurance, and we are just head on collisions with no coverage. We got shattered windshields for eyes, and tongues made out of safely glass held together by super glue. It’s no wonder we spoke broken English. 
With an entire orchestra drowning inside our throats, veins like guitar strings, our voices cracked like the self esteem of single mothers who carried us in their wombs like Molotov cocktails, and prayed that we would somehow find a way to mature into land mines
exploding underneath the feet that have trampled them for too long. These women, they dream in a language only fully understood by the tiles of an abortion clinic on a busy afternoon.
They raised us on top of broken promises made by men with grape jelly in their spines who were too busy jamming to their own 
two-cent mix tape that they chose over their priceless women.
We didn’t come with a screwdriver. There is no picture on our box to show you what we should look like when this all is over.
We were just put into this world with a note that read 
“Some assembly required.”
We were built inside of a neighborhood that looked as though it was slowly loosing a fist fight to cancer and kemotherapy claimed all of it’s dreams.
You see at a young age I was told that no matter how much furniture you move with a Honda Civic, it’ll never be a pick up truck 
but have you ever wanted to be more than what you were made for?
Was there ever moment in your life when all you wanted was to be more than the wounded options that circumstance has nailed to your shoulders? 
People question why we even have the audacity to breathe. That’s why when we walk it looks as though we are apologizing for our lungs.
But we ate not sorry for living this loudly.
It’s the only way we know how.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rubrics Cube Delight


Befor I make any decision's
On how to play this game
  I take the time and ask
           For Jesus'
Because He really
Know's how to play
        The game
      ------ 
     Because of He
Fore He entertain's wisom
   This gift is his fame
     And something else
    He is the keeper
             -Of- 
     Thy Holy name
      ------
Now I know that I can
Play the cube in this game
           Of life
I can make my His own
         Decision's
Maybe even land me a wife
      ------
I can play it more than twice
    With time permitting
I can play for the rest of my life
             And to think
I will never have to think twice
This is my eternal, everlasting
             Vice for life

                 GF


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I love you

Winds blow
Like music they hang in the air
The melody is sweet
Like a light breeze in a hot day.
Soon the people will be free
Free from human bondage.

Birds sing thier tunes
Foot solders are marching on
Singing songs of liberation.
Soon the trumpets will sound
Of victory from ignoble regimes
That enslave the people like birds in cages.

Butteryflies dance in the air
Free they are at last.
Like the people 
They have broken from cacoons........
Cacoons of tribalism, racism and religious differences
Free they are to go anywhere, everywhere.

Rains fall over the lands
The green shows over the expanses
Reminding me of a land rich and fertile.
Daggers are drawn ready for batlle
To slay corruption and nepotism, name it........
In a land so full of promise.

Lambs and kids play and jump
To their mothers they run to suckle
Mothers nature them in kindness and love.
I am reminded of a motherland
That I attach myself to
I love you mother Africa.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

tell her through this letter

so you all are here 
to judge my fate 
i am standing here alone 
and all nice people are keeping silence 
           i am now about to weep 
           but i wont cry 
           give me six or give me ten 
           but without convincing her i wont die 
as i see her face in the court yard 
now my childish acts are gone 
and i wept hard 
 i wont able to be with her ever 
oh, those were beautiful days of my past 
                         oh my light of life 
                          you will always remain in my mind 
                          what if i wont kiss you all time 
                          but i shall hold your hand in my dreams at night 
just give me one promise o' my sweet angel 
never come back to see me in my cell 
i shall live longer having you in my dream 
and you always remain immortal in our sweet tale


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lines, rewrite

My life is told in lines here
the ones etched upon my face
deep lines drawn in the sand
storylines I wrote past years
the lines rarely going straight
many written over again
fractured pages inked in tears
stories fade without a trace
wiped away by my own hand
a wasted memoir is what I fear
can I redeem my essential place
in spirit of faith I now stand
bright sliver of light shining clear
a crushed being saved only by grace


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HOPE

A feeling of what can be,
what will turn out for the best,
where expectations are centered
and where forgiveness lives.
A desire that dwells in confidence
with trust as its expectation.
Where spirituality resides
with faith at its core.
It is real, surreal,
moving and magnificent.
It is a special blessing
this feeling of hope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When Old Dancers Die

She was a dancer
But now at age sixty seven
During the days
Her ghost leads small groups
Of aging seniors
In pilates stretching 
Several times a week

She was a dancer
And though her feet
Remember every heel and toe
That she had ever done
Arthritis keeps her 
From ever thinking 
Of a simple lock step
Ever again

She was a dancer
Whose feet flew
This way and that
Across every stage
From New York to California
But was never chosen
To be the one
To play that special role

And though
She is sixty seven
And the direction of time
Can never flow back
Somewhere
After the sun departs
And night time covers the land
She closes her eyes
And still dreams
Of the time

She was a dancer


Details | Prose Poetry | |

She's Gone

On the Woodstock green 

Sitting on a bench

She doesn't see me watching

Traffic on Tinker Street

Hides me from her view



She skips about 

In a world of her own

Unaware of me 

Across the street

Watching her laugh 

At the store windows 

And smiling 

At everyone passing by



My eyes seem transfixed 

By her form

As she grows smaller 

In the distance

A noise 

From deep within my soul

Makes a cheerless silent sound

Reviving memories 

Much too sharp to hold

And much too distant 

To touch.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Still

Still

You put smile on my lips
Oh! How can I resist?
It’s like bringing me a magical piece
Where I am the princess an you’re my prince

But it seems I have no place
In your heart where can I stay?
Oh! Maybe I should go away
Away where I can’t feel more pain

Because it’s harder even more
The pain inside my heart slowly breaks my soul
I tried not to think of you
Believe me I did but I failed too

And now it’s been two years
My heart beats still the same
Still shouting your name
Two years of loving you still gives me pain.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waiting

Soul decaying, heart breaking, knees shaking,
And still nothing I can do to make your presence fade,
You’re nowhere in sight yet you still make yourself known,
Now I know the feeling of getting your heart thrown, 
Into a dark lifeless pit of tragedy and despair,
Knowing your arms wrapped around the waist of another,
Tares my soul in two,
I’m drowning in my own tears,
And grasping nothing but blood,
I hate seeing my heart cut up and dropped in front of me,
I sit on the floor with my head down,
Rib cage open and arms drenched in red remorse,
And you,
Standing above me with a blank stare and what was my heart,
I’m never waking,
And you’re gone and taking,
What was my heart grasped in your hand and a plane ticket in the other,
Smiling at him starry eyed,
And I’m still waiting to get that heart back,
Hoping it’s from you,
But now I’m hoping it can be from another,
I can’t wait to learn how to finally love you.


 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Faith

When the sun begins to set,
When the colours seem to fade,
When all hope seems useless,
When all people turn against,
When the storm takes pace,
When all leaves begin to droop,
When my heart begins to pain,
When all my fears come before me,
When all my sorrows fall upon me,
When all weaknesses build inside me,
When fate humours me,
And my destiny is unkown,
I know that faith is inside me,
To make me believe and give me hope,
That the better is still to come.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ The Open Actions of a Sinner ~ (~) ~

~ (~) The true meaning I-am-I feel of a tiered heart the open actions of a sinner, God be Him as I believe undoubtedly I know He is; I pray He grant me mercy. (~) ~ ~ (~) Though time may further wither-placate beholden may His grace bring me the merry day I fall laying broken before His goodness. (~) ~ ~ (~) Shadows they play mid the Sun's subtle-and-ominous tones, freedom telling tells always of-more time... whether it be mordant, or by future tense that lay still dormant. (~) ~ ~ (~) Haven't any moneys to think of I could steel buy or borrow, leaving-someday-maybe- today... remembering time a treasure pleasure of the past present always possible-future — but open I am, though time my greatest teacher — is killing this pupil. (~) ~ ~ (~) Some softly woven-vibrantly-spoken words-mellow tones all of these I have given in my life, though now I pray truly they be virtuous. (~) ~ ~ (~) The body aches, the mind crying in its wake, tiered now I feel I have taken-endured enough, though I know death its-always-consuming me, before I go let its hope grant the light to see for another, let-my words be-final... genuine; undivided-and-bold. (~) ~ ~ (~) "Humbly, as I pray it would be for you, death; as I can only hope it would be with me... may it-move-to you sweetly... ." (~) ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VU_rTX23V7Q&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bring Me Peace

                                              Bring Me Peace

                                        From the arms of your love,
                                        As that of an angel from above.
                                        Bring me peace with your touch,
                                        And heal my desires from lorn's crotch.

                                        A crotch so dependent it bruises,
                                        From the memory of loves loses.
                                        Help me find happiness's light,
                                        Because each day I sacrifice to fight.  

                                        Those desires of passion's peace,
                                        And the feeling's I often increase.
                                        All road's lead to you,
                                        For your heart is pure and mostly true.

                                        Bringing me peace is a benefical joy,
                                        Because comfort comes as a baby boy.
                                        So fine me and hold me,
                                        For peace from an angel can only be..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dream Come True

Dream Come True
WLM
January 12, 2011


I will not be blue
For my dream has come true
She has come to me
We will just let it be
I have waited so long
And my love has grown so strong
To have and to hold
For to always be bold
To let her know
How my love will show
To make it right
And look into the bright light
I want her to stay
For she will have it her way
She is so smart
I will sing like a lark
For she is mine 
In this day and this time
Our love will grow
To others it will show
Her and I surely long
For together we belong
And to her I yearn
Not a hint of concern
We will always be
As one entity




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Exposed

I'm exposed when it comes to you
The mere presence of you makes me come unglued
My intentions are purposely and soley to get you in the nude
Don't mean to be rude
You sexually and mentally stimulate me with your attitude
confident that i can provide what you need like no other dude
When the time is right to get you in the mood
This love will be warm, gentle and one that will never bruise
When it comes to being
Exposed to you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Truth

Here’s the thing
Peer pressure, isolation and laughter
Doesn’t magically make wrong right
Or change a lie into truth
Just because so many
Who are uninformed believe
Doesn’t turn fiction into fact
Rewriting history doesn’t make it true
No matter how many times you try
Doesn’t matter if good people or fools
Are leading the way
If it’s down the wrong path
Doesn’t matter if you say
It’s for the children and the poor
If it’s not the truth
For only one thing
Will set you free
We can twist a man’s words
Into whatever we want
When He’s not around
But when He once again
Sets foot to ground
Twisting is not so easily done
But we did so with good intentions
Will offer no excuse
In the face of the Truth
We too long ignored
So does it matter
If a few facts were off base
And the Truth
Just a bit embellished
I wonder who among us
Is bold enough to say
A little white lie
Isn’t really so
In the face of the Truth


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thoughtless Explosions of Verbiage

In times of joy and in times of pain 
words are the only elusive attempt at portrayal 
Daunting Contraptions Contracted in a few fleshy pounds 
hidden in a bloody swirling cesspool hiding in our skulls 
Thoughtless explosions of verbiage fill the pages of 
time & space in this place, feeble attempts at nothing 
merely interjections of uselessness. We canter down 
these halls of life opening doors & closing others, 
doors hard to shut are better left open. To breath the 
breath of life through these pounding heads of humanity. 
Beating its burden of confusion & false hope straight to 
the source ... producing order? What a concept in this place 
as to say a controlled explosion our existence is 
the oxymoron that is all. We live the days like 
the pun of some joke that's been forgotten. 
We soothe our souls with others expressions, broadcasting 
feeling to the masses. Ideas thought for someone else 
helpless sheep in this hillside pasture we're spinning on. 
Songs of hope & joy inspire & drive others to the end. Confident 
that more words will help in the future. Addicted to 
others feelings & ideas to produce our own. Mindless bites 
gurgle out real life for ratings while we all watch 
ourselves and turn back to the box. The box should 
falsify our existence but then the black emptiness that 
has become our hard existence. Tired lonely 
followers dancing till the end .... 
Ah the end 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Living Life to the Fullest

What's so great about living life to the fullest is to just enjoy it.  Just like the
saying goes: "Life's way too short." When he or she was told not to waste his or her life
on boredom, they should do something with their lives, like, going on road trips, go to
recreation centers, and/or whatever. The other part about living life to the fullest is
when he or she's out of the house more often and whatnot. Everybody should enjoy their
good lives while they can because should he and/or she passes on, then they'll realize
what they're missing in life. I've learned that celebrating life is always a great thing.
Also, living life to the fullest and enjoying life are part of our every day lives. It's
just a way to go out and have fun with friends, spending time with families, and
interacting with the entire community and stuff. I've also learned that we all only live
once, so we best not blow it. I hope everybody gets a chance to live their lives and enjoy
them while they still can. Once again, life's too short. In the words of Gladys Knight: "I
hope you still feel small, standing by the ocean. Whenever one door closes, I hope one
more opens. Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the
choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance. I hope you dance."


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twisted Karma

Fate has led my heart to find
A love that was never destined to last
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
For my cruel and heartless past
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
And threw my love in the trash

A life-altering war rages on
That split our apartment in two 
Some nights I lay against the wall
That separates me from you.
Tormented by this endless pursuit
That rips my heart through and through

An intrinsic insanity leads me on
I imagine you on the other side
Strumming your fingers across the wall
While my child grows inside
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
To where our memories lie
A sense of longing derives
Inside your wicked lies

I’m wallowing in broken dreams
And taunted by the burdens I choose
I once believed this was my ‘happy ever after’
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Hoping that I’m done paying dues
And maybe someday you will choose
To stop treating me like you do
We’ll get back to being me and you
Settle down and say ‘I do”

But there you go
Out the door into his arms
You chose his dim-witted presence
Over my witty charm
To0 blind to see the harm
In trading that broken home for ours?

Spare his feelings to obliterate mine
You say you feel obligated to be with him
When you’re not lying in my arms
A broken faith in you snaps from within
This could possibly be the end?
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
No longer my friend

I love you
Who am I to you?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WHAT WOUND DID EVER HEAL

“What wound did ever heal, 
But by degrees”
…Shakespeare
Except my mother was dear
…Very dear

Count me among men
Who can read and write
Count me among them
Who finds book a delight
No!
Not about intelligence
Mother taught me diligence
Scrapped for a living
So I could get learning
I am a dead woman’s sweat
My worries cracked her chest
My mother was my literacy
My literacy is my treasure
My treasure…is you
I wrote what you can read
She was its measure.
I never paid back 
Never gave thanks.
Prodigal son playing pranks

On me,
She had learned to hope
Then died
In last breath still in hope
That I lose not hope
But what hope lies there 
For a drawing man to hope
Last straw, just sank in
Wide Sea without and within

Wounds heal by degrees
But some can’t heal
Only permitted to blurred
My tears blur my view
Soaks the ink in papers
Forcing me to rewrite and renew
She will not want me to cry
Rather that I sit up and try
Dab my eyes, let the tears dry.
“I know who you are my son”
You are awesome”
Mama, you always tell me that
But am breaking down.
Your lose never healed
Shakespeare said its by degrees
Said the pain will decrease
But I detest full healing
You were so appealing.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Are You Knocking- Do You Hear The Wind Sing Your Name

I seem to have lived my life in thrice written scrolls
    flowing throughout the eternal winds 
in bits and pieces of torn paper

I’ve searched my heart for you my love
    I’ve sent your name to the stars -
sending it throughout the Universe…
    floating across the essence of time

I seek my heart’s desire…
    Bidding him to send the mysteries of his soul
I search and search - oh, there must be more
    Is that you knocking at my door?

Why is love so hidden?
    We think it has arrived, only to find…
it was not for ourheart - our soul

In my dreams - you’ve come a thousand times
    Your spirit sings
I’m aroused by the gentleness of your touch
    I feel the passion of your caress
My heart keeps searching 
    My soul yearns for the sweet taste of your kiss

Where are you my love...
    There must be more
Is that you knocking at my door?

You sleep in the recesses of my mind - my heart
    Come fill the emptiness within - 
draw me into your warm embrace 

I’ll wait a lifetime ...
    for there must be more 
“Shh”…
    Is that you knocking at my door?

 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Universe Works In Mysterious Ways

Fallen black stars
That burnt out years ago
Fall through a rainbow
Dripping a fusion of color
To show the beings below that there's hope
To fool the mysterious players
To beat them at their own game of chess
Only there being no rules
When slaughtered in that cruel game
They'll shed out hope
While it drips onto the dull ground
The stars will reappear in a new light
Feeding off the energy around them
That reflects light of the puddle of hope
To create a new universe
That will one day expand and com bust
Into something tiresome and old
To teach the new comers to respect the higher power
In which is not 'God or the Devil'
Something greater than 'them'
More strength that we haven't uncovered  
Not to be used for evil
Evils unknown in other aspects of the universe
Only a human concept
That's why there's no Devil
Humans are the Devil
Earth is Hell
But than again humans can be compassionate 
Where Earths our garden of paradise


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ This is Not for Me to Judge (Part #3 of 3) ~ (~) ~

Needed something other than itself. The other was rich with wealth, in its spirit, it knew love was shown it, and so it grew, and was kept, offered it as it grew strong, moved within itself towards another, was open to them, warm, towards this world, God I believe. The other was not. Because it was not offered these things, could not be open to any other things, than the hate for, what was kept from it. Which friend was in essence everything, God I believe being the pureness, truth, of everything... . Though, still, it may have desired it... . I believe, the idea of having what others, had gotten... the search for it was forgotten... . This void, friend it kills. Steels-destroys... any life that would wish to grow, to know anything more. No, this was not I, but I have lived both sides of this. I have been dealt both. As I believe we all are. I'm sure you have too. I dwelled within this confusion for the majority of my life. Until I was brought, taken, allowed to reach a point. It was reaching out to God, the world, another. Then the struggle was offered to me the choice. With all of the things I knew, had been through, taken through, know a lot more of now, I couldn't then, like now, save me... . I could not grow. There is when knowing no other choice, I wept. Asked for help, committed myself to the Idea of Him, His peace... with you, myself... . God came to me, healed me with this idea of remaining open to Him, another, the world, be patient, willing, honest. I will not say to you I have any greater faith than you. To speak your mind, is, having faith, if it be in yourself. What if there were more than this friend, what if there were more. "Far MORE"! Love you friend. You inspire me. To remain open to you. Keep doing what is right and true, have faith, continue, to remain open, I hope that you do... . God love you friend be with you, us... . Peace come and tackle you down today, keep you, hold you... make you warm... ! Yes, friend, I hope you let it! Him... ! ~ Love ~ James ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OrMUVzwlrE&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUST IN JESUS

you have trouble
sister brother
get to him
he is all of them
he made us from dust
TRUST IN JESUS


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE MAN

You have gained that stature  of man
Holding  the sky on your palms.
Twist the world around your fingers
And diffuse the arrogant fury of the nature.

Your knowledge and intelligent   probes
Shall  restrain  the devastation wreaked
On the helpless souls of the earth,
You like a Phoenix rise from the debris  of  the ‘Dissolution’.

The Nature may please to thrust at you,
Out of its ghastliness, unleashing   the devils
Like Tsunami, Tornados, Earthquakes, Volcano blasts et all 
A dastardly act, annihilating the lives  created  by itself
In a eons of time so painfully creating that it will destroy.

But you have the will to survive the deadly onslaughts
Bearing   with the maladies determined   not  to surrender to the  Devil,
Its   devilry  can never decimate you or wipe you out of existence
Though since a eons it is indulging in such nefarious acts
Conforming to the theory  of   Malthus, namely ‘Malthus Balancing Act
And you shall live for a eons   more
In  spite  of all the natural calamities preying on you.                                  
                                                                                                                               
                                                                                                                      – Jay-en


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ ... ""Because-Bold Winds-Rave"" ... ~ (~) ~

~ (~) "Yes to tell the truth whatever I deemed alone so-far-myself in my-lifetime to be-of- eminent-promise, quiet virtue — is but only a tale I fetched up to be my merry placate... yes gathered up from the ominous hollo of the wandering winds, told in the futility of my mind infinitely far-and-a-ways beyond the timelessness of their prudence, love... enchantment continuing grace; that which I would delight myself in the-hands-of today — and for-the- remainder of them... if were they to come to pass... ." (~) ~ ~ (~) "For-them I would-not-barter a thing... but-offer-all-of-me again... and whatever pleasures brought-bought-and-sought after-from-then-on yes I pray it would assume a true peace, for everyone — instead-of-the-clutter wrought-mostly-of-my-own-confusion, and the certain-hell-it-has brought-me, and another, as a result — but still... given this fact I feel scars still-grow-old eventually growing over, given-the blessing of-time... life — the struggles toward an honest enlightenment through faith in Christ all leading to victory I believe today no-matter — the periodic lack-thereof... ." (~ ) ~ ~ (~) "So I consider the experience of this hope as-the-promise-awaiting all-who would-will- moreover-to fight-to-breathe, God's mercy the breath of life being their release, forgiveness, their-humble-reprieve... ." (~) ~ ~ (~) "Because captivating I think-yes, the-passion-of-a-promise left unfinished — alive... like the-fury-and-fortitude-of-a-raging-wind, and so it is felt and upheld forever-kept-open — such-it-is-I-feel-to-own-a-love, unending." (~) ~ ~ (~) Be-it-to-death-or-the-journey-beyond, though prompt as time-presses-on so this hope will always remain. (~) ~ ~ (~) "Abounding-of-all good things-peace-forever-carrying its sweet refrain... and with eternities light shown down... you know I shudder-to think-not... because where-have I gone-that the-ground has-not risen-up to-greet-me... and-peace- wasn't-found-eventually... and at this moment where is it exactly I don't feel safe... through these things I know truth is always resurrected... and yes through these propositions I'm sure... so very much more can be deliberated!" (~) ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koJlIGDImiU


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MIGRATORY

I dreamed she housed her love in the shape of a living bird. How much do migratory creatures know, I wonder, of the weather on the other side? A week ago, the heart that is in my body from time to time leaves me a note I don’t answer. Can we at least talk? it asks, and I think “yes,” and then I lay down, exhausted. In the letter I finally write back. I don’t even apologize, I don’t think. “With you gone, it’s like I’m gone too.” That’s all I say. Words are harder to come and I myself am migratory, though these days lacking in wings or feet. I know nothing of the weather on the other side. I don’t even speak the language that I want to understand. Living as opposed to what? Her living bird made me wonder. Living in what way? I’m watching our wings, hung, ready for tomorrow. I’m looking for a place to put my arms.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Angel's description

I once caught a clear glimpse of her, when she smiled to me, in the train station, not
knowing what to think, speaking to the cellphone and looking at me at the same time,
trying to stay calm, yet couldn't. How regal she looked with the smile on her face... 

My next glimpse of her was in bed, at night, when she could not endure the thought of
being held by her hands as she was, yet, with a once dominant instinct, loving the way she
was seduced. It struck me how dreadfully vulnerable she seemed, being a girl and yet in
some obscure way a mature woman. 

But the angel was released and forgiven and returning to her Eden she was no more able to
withstand eternity without the one she loved. So she rose from her wooden chair and
enchanted the mortal, seeking him, loving him, bringing him to her. 

He arrived at Heaven's doors and gracefully entered the gate. 
Only a few paces from the beauty he draw her closer, teasing her, kissing her ... making
her feel so excited and tantalized.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE NATURE

                Cloud gathering in the sky
		Blown by wind it darts so high
		Layer by layer it darts so high
		What a fun to air ride.

 			The sky is stamped deep black
			The sun is held under its trap.
			No light comes, the earth is dark.
			We seldom find a singing lark.

		It rains, it flashes and it thunders
		It rolls over the sky, how?  One   wonders.
		Some wait for the downpour to stop		
                Some get wet, some to safety hop.

                        Some like the rain, some fear it most 
			For many it is joy, for some it is not.
			Yet it drenches the parched earth
			It is elixir for all providing mirth.
		
		Cloud now does not cover the sky
		The rainy season has gone by		
		And winter casts it spell on all
		We find   nights long and days small.

                                                                                             By Jay-en


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seed of Faith

A tiny seed
born of need
Planted deep
     within the soil of my heart.
Will it not depart?

This seed of faith
Laid deep;
Solitary.
It’s sheath decays,
Lying prey
     to all that prowls
without its beckon;
Death to reckon.

This seed of faith;
It’s treasures now lay bare,
Deep below;
Darkness surrounds;
All hope is lost;
This tiny seed broken,
Laying bare
     the promises within.

With hope yet abandoned,
Evidence appears,
Though barely visible.
Out of death,
New life;
It’s journey to begin;
Delicate.
It’s purpose to fulfill.

Faith not forsaken
Begins its way;
To unfold,
     through darkness,
     it’s promises within.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LIFE

It is meaningless
But with True meaning
It is unfair
But with Acute fairness
It is sad
But with Boundless joy
It is ugly
But with Divine beauty
It is wicked
But with Plenty good
It is exhaustive
But with Restful peace
It is uneducated
But with Vast knowledge
It is fear
But with Bold courage
It is a lie
But with Sincere truth
It is dead
But it lives
LIFE!!!
It is every contrast
Man can think of
But as clear 
As the spring
Go through it
And allow it
Go through you
Then!
You will find
Fulfilment for your Soul


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Humility

I find it odd that as soon as I asked for forgiveness for my sins
they all came back on me - tenfold.  My seemingly 'bad' luck was caused
only by what I did to others against the will of the Lord.
When I honestly repented for the wrongs I had done, 
I didn't ask for ev'rything to go haywire, but that's exactly what happened,
because I hadn't tried to rectify my behaviors.  I tried to run from them,
and act like I'd ne'er really done anything wrong.  I tried to shield myself
from them behind a wall of lies that only created more lies.
Instead of facing up to what I'd done, and try to fix it,
I thought it would all just go away because I wanted to turn my life around
and be a better person.  I realize now that by hiding behind the hand of the Lord
I only got slapped in the face even harder.  I showed no respect for the laws of God
or the land I live in, so I got blown apart by the bomb I lit so long ago.
It's time I stop running, and face up to what I've done.  Only if I'm willing to do this
will the Lord show mercy on me.  I must apologize, and pay the price -
even if in secret.  Only then will the landslide that I created rush into the sea,
and be squelched by my honesty.  Once I take this step, all will be well again,
and I will be able to live my life in peace, knowing that I have done all I can
to right my wrongs.  And, when I die, the gates of Heaven will open wide,
and accept me unflinchingly.  Then I'll truly know I've been forgiven.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beyond

                                                            "Beyond"
                                                 Beyond the morning sun,
                                                 I seek loves face just for fun.
                                                 And when I see loves grace,
                                                 Than and only will love embrace.

                                                 And when love see's through you,
                                                 That's when your days become blue.
                                                 So blue beyond what makes you see,
                                                 For love any day is ones rays of reality.

                                                 A reality of hope's pain,
                                                 And a moment of ones shame.
                                                 So when you wish for loves hope,
                                                 Just hold patience in your hand and cope....


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ten Years

TEN YEARS

10 Years to the day and the tears still fall
Falling harder than day one at ground zero
Stunned silence and shock at what seemed to be
The beginning of the end, of our world…

Images, in still life, forever frozen in time
Now replayed again for me in my subconscious
We can never erase the memories of when and where we were
And how unimportant all of that really seems to be today…

I hear the voices of so many loved ones, echoing
Eternal in their quest for an answer in return
Hands held together, hearts joined as one
As our only hope to overcome…the sadness, the pain…
Of that day…





Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mask

I tip-toe cautiously through each day
eyes cast down, a silent waif
nothing showing upon my face
my essence truly buried safe
an outward disguise carefully placed
but a glimmer of hope always saved
breath of renewal will now awake
the inner spirit never frayed
it becomes a blossoming flame
and with heartfelt promise I reclaim
the restoration of my faith
and inner beauty glows always


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreamy Affection

There are very few ones who care
There are very few who share;
There are few who affectionately glare
Number of those specials are undoubtedly rare.

People whom you can trust blindly
People whom you can forgive kindly;
People whom you love passionately
People whom you can show your stupidity innocently.

Those who'll never talkbehind your back
Those who loves you even if you lack;
Those who often abusively whack
Those who have the key of your heart to hack.

you must be thinking who are they?
Why without greed they are behaving such a way?;
Don't they deserve an extreme pray
Its your FAMILY, Yes none but they.

They can forget you even for the biggest mistake
They are the one if you'll sleep ,they'll wake;
Their affection is as pure as shell
They know your every next step very well.

I really call it a dreamy affection
Seems like living in the world of perfection;
They are your family never let them down
Their single love can bet the whole town.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Positivity

Its always the bad that makes you realize the importance of good.
Its the wrong that you commit, teaches you what’s right.
Its the not so important which makes you feel the importance of others.
Loneliness is the best moment when you got nothing to lose and only to gain.
The best can only exist when you know what worst is.
People come and go, miss the good times you spent with them and be happy.
Don't ask for anything from god, thank him for what he has given you.
Don't call anything a mistake, call it an experience.
Don't regret anything, but learn from what happened.
People who criticize you the most, love you the most.
Don't hate anyone, hatred only proves that you care. Indifference is the worst you can do to a person.
Always look for the good in anyone or anything around you.
Smile if anyone makes fun of you, they do it because they love you. 
Try and understand why a particular person is behaving in a particular way, everyone has reasons.
There are more important issues in life than worrying about who Ted's wife would be in HIMYM.
But that shouldn't worry you, everything falls into place ultimately.
Don't try to design your life, let it design you.
Don't worry about which college you will go to, worry about the internal you have to submit tomorrow.
Believe in god, he is there to help you out when no one is there.
Try explaining to people how you feel rather than rebelling, it will take time, but they will understand.
When your loved one says that they will never talk to you again, don't take them seriously, you are too precious for them that they'll leave you.
Its only when you are hurt, makes you realize the power of healing.
Always keep exploring things, this universe is full of surprises, you might not know when you will discover something interesting.
Be happy. Keep smiling. If you are reading this. It means that you already have someone to take care of you..... (ME)!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

END OF AN ERA

It's only the start now
...a road yet unknown
At times the whisper of other steps
...sometimes we walk alone

The best start of our lives
May at times cry in sorrow
But even on our deadliest days
The sun will shine tomorrow.

So we must do our best
Whatever time may bring
And look beyond the winter chill
To taste the breath of spring.

Into each life will come
A time to start anew
A new start for each heart
As lively as morning dew.

Though the responsibilities of life are great
And palms are bowed so low
The cyclone of time will leave behind
The beauty of a rainbow.

Time will never take away
Our chance to start anew
It's only the start now
So the beautiful dreams can still come true.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Traffic lights shinning in my eyes,
And here I am standing in the rain
counting every drop that fell in my palm.
The Cold breeze had frozen my body.
Like yesterday when you left me in vain
on where I can’t stand from all the pain.
That was yesterday I could still remember.
Yesterday, I was stood under the burning rain.
Where my heart was freezing under the sun
When all the blue and woe have passed my way
and those autumn leaves are my shelter.
On the broken tree house of memory	
that my heart is getting weak,
And it’s hard for me to breathe.
That was yesterday, I was dazzled in lights of lies.

And today,
The sun grimaces in the early morn
were the world embrace me from the past.
That beauty blooms here inside my heart
Spring’s blossoms come only a second of time	
For today, loves grown deep in the heart of me.
Voices tell me I should carry on,
 To hold the stars up in the sky
and see the world will smile again.
Today, my heart will dance again.

For tomorrow,
Love will bloom like flowers in spring
A sweet smile will curve in my lips.
Tomorrow, I’ll be strong as a wind
dance on a game of love, 
Swaying on a battle of life.



Details | Prose Poetry | |

My hope is blowing in the wind

My  hope is blowing in the wind
The sting of battle is beginning to sink in 
I pray into the emptiness of a clear blue sky 
The  sounds of  Reveille and Retreat enters my mind
The Red White and Blue the Stars and Stripes
A final salute the quietness of the evening sky 
Will be my  last  straw of hope until I die


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A TWINKLE OF HOPE

A TWINKLE OF HOPE

My feeble breath stooped,
The wind lost its motion;
My restless soul flopped,
I felt suffocation.

Faulted, failed, fallen,
Dull I lay almost dead;
The sky seemed fallen
Over my hard-hit head.

No hope, no light, no will,
My courage did fail me;
My friends, turned cold still,
My I deserted me.

All charms of life were gone,
I wished to live no more;
The god of death , did dawn,
To come in through my door.


Dense gloom shadowed me,
Fearful fog ran around;
Moments but, killed me,
Still I did hold the ground.

I saw in the dead dark,
A twinkle of hope, a light,
Pierced the foggy dark,
Did kindle my eyes bright.

No gloom, no fog, no dark,
I saw a bright blue sky;
The world sang like a lark,
My spirits too, ran high.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Brother

You left my brother
Came back a man
Should hear our proud father
Speak of you
How you’ve done him
And momma proud
Sister Jane and Katherine
Down the block
Never seem to have anything
But you to talk about
Oh if you only knew the loving
All the girls around here
Say you’ve missed
It’s a good bet
You’d never have left
But leave you did
Nothing can change that now
In a way it’s good to know
Exactly where you are
We need never again worry
If that old truck of yours broke down
Leaving you to walk home in the rain
It’s a good thing really
Now we can all get some sleep
Granted, not as much as you
But we will in our due time
Just want you to know
These tags of yours
Will never leave my neck
You, will never leave my heart
For no matter why you left
Or how you came back
You still are
And will always be
My brother


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Journey Through the Valley

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
No evil will I fear;
For You, ABBA, 
     are here
     with me in this fire
where freedom may be sought
if these flames I will embrace
     with grace.

I feel the pain of grief;
     the desperation of control.
Despair clings tight
Choking delight;
But faith holds deep within my heart,
Its desire unyielding –
	the grip of control to depart,
        my fear to release,
        and find Your peace.

Yet, in the fire,
A thorn plunged deep within my heart-
A seed.

This seed of faith grows
As Love burns away the fear,
	Purged from my soul;
grief washed away by tears.

ABBA teaches me
In the valley of flames 
If my eyes will see
        Him.

Will I be broken bread
       and poured out wine
       while abiding in the vine?

Yea, though I walk through the valley,
Life springs forth from death 
In the ashes;
If I yield control;
If these flames I will embrace
	with grace;
        to cleanse my soul 
        and let Love grow.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The broken road to heaven

The broken road to heaven 


The broken road in need of maintenance  
through which we have traveled, mute and solemn 
to our delight
was alight with millions of glow bugs;
evening was another leaf fallen
when I whisper to my friend Richard,
“Is it heaven? Have we arrived at last?” 
he smiled,  “we are yet to reach my home.”
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Do You Think

What do you think it will take
For people to see eye to eye
Funny how we all seek the same thing
Yet somehow never agree
Funny how we never hear
But expect to be understood
Sad how we react to words
Without ever knowing their why
How we choose to ignore
The hurt and fear
In another’s eyes
While covering up our own
Each struggling to outdo the other
All the while striving
Reaching for the very same thing
Ignoring the way we’re living
We prevent the light from being seen
When the wind blows
It touches us all the same
Just like when it rains
Sunlight touches no one more
There is no discrimination
With heart and hunger pains
A man once tried to imagine
And for a moment
The world sang along
But soon words were forgotten
Lost in each other’s pride
Funny how that works
When we each try to hide
Bury the question deep inside
Until in a quiet moment all alone
Feelings rise again
And quietly we whisper
What do you think it will take my friend
For people 
To see eye to eye


Details | Prose Poetry | |

OMUBBI -"Thief"

Like a thief at midnight
He came along
Sending whispers down my heart
And shivers down my spine
Entrapped in his line,I was
	
They say he is a master of all trades
But he passed my way today
And even I was caught unaware

But then he opened his eyes
And lit up my life
And everyday I hope
He never blinks 
That this light never dies out
The one that makes me smile.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

NOMAD OF LOVE

I am a nomad of love…
Wandering through deserts of despair
Camping in oasis that fade away 
Hunting on land full of swift souls
And still I forge on.
I am a warrior of love…
Planning the best defense to protect 
My heart standing knee deep in false hope
Fighting for a prize I have yet to find
And still I solider on.
I am an artist of love…
Molding my burning desires into shapes
Writing a song that dares to be sung
Painting a picture only I can see
And still I dream on.
I am a believer of love…
Preaching on theories that have no validity
Teaching a vision of both folk and faith
Praying for something I know must be
And always I move on. 
Onward to the final destination.
That I know, that I feel, that I need
called love. 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Without The Box

So, there you are
Returned from fighting another mans war
Heard you’re quite the hero
Good for you my friend
Twenty years young
Couldn’t wait
To kick some terrorist ass
And so you did
So very well indeed I hear
Now you’re back
Nothing more to kick
What are you to do with yourself
Lying there as you are
Look at all of us here
To welcome you back
Can you not hear the joy
Can you not see the happiness
Or is it all hidden behind the tears
So here you are returned
In a flawless uniform
Lying there all smug and confident
With a peaceful look
Here you are returned
Fresh off the plane
In a nice tight package
Here you are returned
To never leave again
Good to have you back my friend
Only wish it could have been
Without the box


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poverty

Psalm 34:19 NLT
The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.



There is a constant suffering in someones life. An affliction is a source of constant suffering. 
It could be a number of things such as poverty, sickness, or anxiety. Many people who suffer 
these afflictions believe that no one understands them, but they are mistaken, God does 
understand. He is always here for us, to show us the way out of bad situations. 

Many people ask the question of why God does not end suffering. God is able to do anything 
you ask of Him. God does not bring the trouble to you, but at times He will give you an 
affliction to experience or a time to walk through it, only for reasons that is olnly known to 
God. I think it is because He uses these reasons to draw you nearer to Him, or to make you 
stronger, or to have you become more stronger and secure in your faith. Trust God and He 
will lead you out of your troubles. He is the light.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Will you be ready?

When theres a knock on the door
will you be ready?
For all the things 
That's outside the
world you live in?

When the telephone rings
will you be ready?
For everything which is being told
At the end of the line?

When they wake you up
will you be ready?
For the stuff tat happens in reality
And not the for the dreams you hope for?

When they open your eyes
will you be ready?
To see things as they are truly are,
Rather than what you've heard?

When you enter the dark tunnel
will you be ready?
To find light at the end of the tunnel?

Be ready...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

"LOVE" Living it beats---writing of it.

I can write a poem 
lickedy split, on love
so low and behold 
it comes from above.
but over the years 
I've dried many tears
I have found this to be true
When love is shiny and new
When your truly in love, just two
For writing of it there is no time.
So through the experience of it
gather your thoughts
for if it's soon over 
your mind then begins
of old thoughts to hover
then comes time
a dreaded emotional grind
For while alone you stand
for then its time for pen in hand.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Because she still clung to his promises

The girl was legend

All empty eyes & purple painted smiles. Every sweet white inch of her. And everyone knew 
her name

She danced in satin skirts that only moved when she took them off. She was everything 
delicate, everything demure. She was beautiful even when she wasnt

She watched the world with terror filled saucer eyes & the world looked right back with eyes 
that were unmistakably green

It was clear glass, they envied her & she wondered why

She knew they hung up her picture, plastered her to walls&books&frames that made her 
their prisoner. They stared at her when they were alone & forged a kind of intimacy she 
could thrive on

But it was temporary & in the morning she was left to sing her own self to sleep since no one 
cared enough to do it for her

The people that loved her, that glimpsed the real her when she uncovered it, all those people 
left her at the end & she saw what they'd done

They'd led her down the wrong track but they peppered it with glitter & held her just right so 
she was blind to every bit of it

She was the diamond dying in the night, she was the candied rose melting in the morning 
dew. They lured her with promises of love & took her innocence before she even knew it was 
there

She hated them but started to love them almost obsessively. The love hate became another 
prison & she thought she was free because she always got nine seconds of pleasure before 
the sun rose

Back bars catered to her kind & she walked in just to stand there & let their hands go places 
she'd never gone herself. It felt like the past & she convinced herself it was right

One night she walked in, skirt past the legal limit & eyes bright like they used to be. It was a 
shock-making moment, she hadnt looked so sweet in oh so many years & they were afraid 
to touch her

She'd been their girl forever, passed around & used like an old movie that cant be rewound. 
They knew every mark on her body, every scar where they signed her, a kind of "I was 
here" of the human body. They couldnt recognize her. It was the first time she walked out 
alone. Faintly she hoped to be pressed against a wall & killed but it didnt happen

She kept turning around haunted by phantom-feels & ghost-touches. Her body just wanted to 
suffer. It was instinct & who was she to fight it?

Every step was agony. She walked so carefully as though she was afraid of falling in a river 
of her own dark thoughts

But it was hopeless, darkness followed her wherever she went


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Finally a New Hope and Beginning

Finally a New Hope and Beginning
WLM
Wildncrazy555
April 8, 2011 


The Finality of My Life
Is Completely a Relief and Free From All Strife
I traveled many a mile
08 to 11 It took a while
At first she was my best friend
I know in my heart it will last till the end
I feel as I should be in a gurney
For it has been such a long journey
Weeding them out
Because of finding  out all about
Some were shy 
I know not why
Most of them always wanted money
Why should I pay to be their honey
But this one just wants Bill
For with him her heart will completely fill
Full of passion and love 
Sent from heaven above
And soon we will be as one entity
Which will last through infinity
She is extremely so fine
My heart knows she is mine
We are completely entwined like a vine
And we both know it will last till the end of time


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You are all I really have

You are all I really have.


You are all I really have.
You have been with me patiently through much, and basic training.
Your love is real.
Your love is really all I have.
without is but lifeless shells
without is but illusions
without is but rotting corpses
without is but heartless mannequins.
your love is really all I have,
for without are but backstabbing knives.

Without you 
I would have but phantoms and ghosts.
Without you 
I would have no love.
Without you
I would copulate with the dead of heart.
Without you
I would have never felt loved.

In this dark storm of perdition,
I've realized that you are all I really have.
Without is but tempests but within I have you, my refuge,and my home.

Be my heart's safe haven, and  in your loving embrace harbor me from the 
tumultuous ocean, 
in the warm halls of your heart.

You are all I really have.
I love you
and your love is really all I have.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soul's Spring

I remember

Things small

And also

Lies tall

I dreamed

Last night

Of memories

To fight

I sit

At home

Battling

Alone

But still

I rise

With hope

The prize

And birds

Will sing

To give

Me spring

And sun

Will come

Though I'm

Undone


Details | Prose Poetry | |

But Then

I cannot sleep

I cannot think

I cannot rise

I cannot sink

I cannot fear

I cannot race

I cannot find

My rightful place

 

But then.....

 

In restful slumber 

I fall

Precious moments

They call

Friends

They give me their all

And suddenly

Hope rises tall


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Gift

THE GIFT 		09/15/2011			1526

God is great and God is good
Each of us is a wonderful gift created by our Father’s love
How everything that we need is present and represented 
In all that surrounds us in our lives, He is the one that sent it
Seeing His son hang for our sins with 2 thieves by His side
With His suffering for our trespasses, there was no pride, 
Only a beautiful gift dripping away in blood
God’s tears as He gave us His only begotten Son 

He gave us more than any earthly person ever would
Gifts we don’t appreciate, so often misunderstood
During this journey, the people in our lives are where we see God face to face
Victory after victory, splash after splash of God’s thirst quenching grace
All in the face of the people in our lives who can never be replaced 
From conception to laughter,
In each of our stories, there are unread chapters
With lovers of “the word” sent with their own gift, their own message
Their own interpretation, their own blessing
Helping us to pass each “transgressional” testing,
By blood or by acquaintance, misfortune or circumstance
Those in our lives are here with provisions and life lessons
Preparations and encouragement, by order of God’s suggestion
Neither lonely nor dismayed, unprepared or without truth
We will flourish and continue if the “The Word” is our root

God is great and He provides what is good
The perfected masterpiece of love has been withstood
Friends and family who are God’s chosen ones
Sent to love us unconditionally whether we are considered something or none
With shoulders to lean on, and with an attentive ear
Someone to offer their support as we dry that last tear
With God’s light and His salvation whom shall we fear?
His love is always near… 
A gift neatly wrapped called family and friends


MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hear With Wings

The wings of my heart fly and guid me
through the atmosphere of pain and suffering.

They calm me as I glid over the mountains and 
through the fluffy clouds that move along with me.

The clouds guide my wings as if I were a pilot, flying 
through the sky of my Soul.

Oh! How lovely are these wings! They fit just right. I 
would never want to take them off. At times, I do have to 
take them off. On the days when my heart feels at ease, I put
them aside; safe in my Soul.

At the times that I must struggle with my existence, I pull
them out and quickly put them on so that I don't get lost;
lost in the deep end of the ocean.

I need these wings to guide me in the right and hopeful
paths through my life's journey.

I don't have them yet. I have to save money for them
and get my pilot license, too; it is too expensive.

Ha! Ha!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hope Has Gone

Follow a long path and it will get rougher as you go, don't let that stop you,
Daffodils will be thick and yellow on both sides, let golden colours guide you,
The daffodils will disappear at the woods, a green wall of spring will appear ,
Here the path is just footprints in lush grass, the smell of spring, heady.

There will be acres, and acres of thick bluebells, the scene will lift you heart,
Bluebells and the trees will darken your way, follow the yellow rods of sunlight,
Sit awhile, cast your eyes upon this place of classical beauty, a sight to behold,
The perfume of leaf mold, competes with the different scents of woodland flowers.

Be on your way after a good rest, by now you should hear the sound of running water,
A background noise, an orchestra to join the bird song high up in the branches,
Camped by the side a tiny brook, a man called Hope will shake your hand, warmly.
With clear bright blue eyes, and white hair, a dazzling smile to make you welcome.

His name is Hope the Hermit, he will invite you to sit and enjoy a cup of leaf tea,
Stories make your heart sing but, there is a sad side, Hope hides away from people,
I sat with Hope for what seemed like hours listening to stories of his wonderful life,
He had knowledge about every subject we talked about, his words, like beautiful poetry.

The sun went down behind the tops of trees so it was time to head for home before dark,
I followed the path back to my village my thoughts and body full of gladness and joy,
Going to bed that night I could not sleep, Hopes words opened my eyes to a new world,
Tomorrow I will go and visit my new friend, we will talk about things and enjoy the day,

Hope's world is a caring lovely world, a world where you can see beauty in everything,
I had to wait for the sun to rise, to go back to see my good friend deep in the woods,
I walked the same footpath, the daffodils were gone, no carpets of bluebells in the wood,
There was no camp beside a brook, no golden shafts of light, just a wood, Hope had gone.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

On By Some

Time gracious... free... sadly slipping away on by some... . Sweet as the twilight Sun... . Being blessed by this through God's quest for evenness a perfect equality for all. Through His compassion, grace... I see here today, in their innocence the birds fly by me all bellowing out tweeting-gingerly as-they sing through the Summer Spring, and Fall through the precious and always looming... if I'm willing to look... Winter sky's... . Looking at the mountain's-as they rise and fall again to greet the glory of the humble-prairie lands. As the snow falls softly whipping around glistening in the quiet known by me now of these still mornings. The Sun always brimming, like one big fervent, little giddy grand blue snuggie, is all too delighted I feel now to bring me the opportunity time and again to embrace them in their brilliance. Love, I consider now to be the hope willing reliance, faith, yes joy the simple clarity brought to know the beauty of all of these gracious and even more eminent things, and so I believe it too this is why some flags are flown as such. Waving about for all this honest passion, opportunity for the another, as I believe it is their-certain vision of whiteness, readiness, pureness, being the prudent example, the one brought again, and again... to remain open. The innocent color yes perfect reflection of their desire for peace... ! Time, gracious and free, sadly, though I hope still now it not be this way with you if it is, because as it is I have looked, felt and seen been shown through the loss of some of it myself, it still... slips away on by some... ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author notes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WM7-PYtXtJM


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love and burn

Ceaseless burn set me afire. 
Rage with love, light my desire.
Let the fire put out never,
My eternal burn forever.

Undying burn, ignited now
Do not through your fire allow
Lighter’s flash to others flare:
Cheat you, then, I would not dare. 

Never-ending burn, eternally then
Keep your burn from other men
With my burn I you proclaim
Forever my never-ending flame.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Arms In Which To Hide

Always surrounded by people
Yet I always feel so lonely
The lady let escape
From her lips
As the feeling poured
From eyes so beautiful
They always draw a crowd
So many people talking
As she screams out loud
No one can hear
For none will listen
There only for the laughter
And to share her touch
To drink in what they see
Not to look inside
All the fun of the moment
Tends to fade when days grow long
When all you need is a place to hide
But truth reveals no arms to hold
Just boasts with new stories told
So she tries to ignore
How alone she is
Hoping no one sees
What she really feels
Yet in all the photographs to attract
I see in each one exposed
The lonely hurt of a girl
Hoping someone will seek to look
Beyond what a picture shows
To discover what
Her true heart knows
And not seek to boast
But give her arms
In which to hide


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Met Jesus Yesterday

I met Jesus yesterday
Didn’t recognize His face
There was no long hair or beard
Just a woman who said
Looks like you could use a helping hand
I met Jesus yesterday
Didn’t know who He was
There were no miracles of wine
Just an old man
Who shared his time
I met Jesus yesterday
Could have sworn I was all alone
No crowds were gathered there
Just a child who seemed to care
Offered up his bike
So I wouldn’t have to walk alone
I met Jesus yesterday
Never even said a prayer
There were no wounds on his hands
Just the scars of many years
Written all across his face
As the broken man gave me hope
I met Jesus yesterday
With no sermons on the mount
You were the only one I saw
As you gave your love to me
Promised there you’d always be
I keep meeting Jesus
Though I never see His face
It’s hard to understand
How this Man I never see
Keeps showing up
Wherever there is love
A helping hand, shared time
An offer not to walk alone
A caring heart
Or whatever I may need
It just seems I always say....
I met Jesus yesterday


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hmmm

Really? Hmmm,
So what you’re saying
Is covering up truth
With well intentioned
Though misguided facts
Changes a lie from what it is
Hmmm,
By slapping goodwill
On the face of deception
Adding guilt to questions asked
Throwing in things seemingly good
That we all should do
Changes a lie from what it is
Hmmm,
So by disregarding the truth
Saying it’s the spirit that counts
Makes following and joining the lie
An accepted worldwide truth
Hmmm,
By adding a name who often spoke
Of the origin of lies
We find changing His words
Acceptable in our eyes
For after all, we do so for Him
Hmmm,
Interesting…
Wonder what He himself
Would say and think
Of how we rationalize
Changing a lie from what it is


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Amanda

Amanda
December 12, 2011
WLM
Wildncrazy555

Amanda my Dream, 
Just let out a scream, 
I know it will be, 
For YOU shall be with me, 
For the rest of my life, 
Without all the strife, 
We will always give,
Through our lives we will live, 
So happy and content, 
As it should be meant, 
And live and learn, 
In my arms I truly yearn, 
To have and to hold, 
For this I will be bold.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Greater 'Minds' Than Mine

 
  Greater 'Minds' Than Mine; 
Have left the 'Earth' and walked away.
Einstein as a troubled child, 
lobotomized, 
mixed socks and locked away.
Hubble and his visions eye'd, 
are seen across the sky.
D.N.A...must free more how...
When freedom lies barred now.
Worlds within a world within a world, 
his world one waits.
Within our dreams.
We do not wast our time on germs, 
untill they show us how. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

APOLOGY TO ELIOT

Let us go to certain half-desserted restaurant
Where cheese is spread on the table like an elkmilksheet  
Steaks are burnt, curries are bland, puddings are mulberry mist
Let us go to certain half-deserted street
Where women come and go like milkrunners
Wenches in hand the spanners span the Einstein's space
( Here I am dizzy,I am confused, should it be my space?)
They are savvy nuts pulling legs of navvies 
They are all dancing quirks and frizzling squidface
I am Nero, I am nerd, I like to fly like a booming bird
But hey see all bullshit I am bamboozled in a brown pit
I am cheated, I am a cheat
I am timid, I browbeat
Let us go to certain half-deserted street
Kiss her kill her miss her mess her give Sue a treat
I am not fit.
I have heard bunkers singing
Weapons roar, F-16 kinking
Tattered cops and freaks swinging
Cows are mooing churchbells ringing.
Children laughing, couples blinking
Midsummer snow snowstars twinkling.
Churchbells ringing........................
Shanti Shanti Shanti.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heat

HEAT
WLM/KDW
Wildncrazy555
April 18, 2011

Waiting on the corner
Should we warn her
Of the approaching danger
Like a silent still ranger
She has been caught as a snitch
Out comes the evil, mean witch
We may to her have to slice
Into little pieces we love to dice
With a rock to her neck she will sink
After a while she will begin to stink
And no one will ever know
For through time she will never show
This is a terrible place
 Which has fallen from all of God’s grace 
We hope we may
Live through the day
And hope to always stay
To live another day



Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Fine Line

I'm walking a fine line,
somewhere between dead and alive,
I'm contently loosing balance,
tripping over my own two feet.
I'm scratched, scared, and bruised.
Will I make it out alive?
Or will I die,
on this destructive path of mine?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sword In Hand

Sword In Hand

So, where do you think you'll be
when my father reigns down from the heavens
to destroy this earth of her greed
and deliver her to the meek


Details | Prose Poetry | |

NOT A BLACK OR WHITE THING ITS THE RIGHT THING

it gods land
all made from his hands
you have right to  stand
white or black don't step back
put failure on the rack
to be is what love brings
ITS
NOT A BACK OR WHITE THING
ITS THE RIGHT THING


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life is Cruel

Life is Cruel
WLM
April 6, 2011


Always things to face
Will we ever finish the race
Is it meant for me
Or will it ever be
The continuing strife
Always screwing up my life
It seems that I try and try again
But I never know where to begin
The problems that I face
Daily they put me in my place
 I thought of my friends
Will they be there at the end
I wish for their support
Or will I be treated like a dork
I really need them as such 
If they really knew how much
Not saying that I was wrong
With or without them I will be strong


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life is Good

Life is Good
WLM
Wildncrazy555
July 26, 2011

Pity trips are for losers
For they are just snoozers
I feel so high
So high in the sky
For I can see
I belong I will BE
See the birds on wing
And hear them sing
For life is so good
As to be it should
For life to begin again
Until the end
To hear the BOOM
To be as a bee and Zoom
From flower to flower
Waiting for the shower
To quench their thirst
And fell the burst
Of life to be
We shall all be free


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Land of Graves

Land of Graves

A land of graves makes for quiet neighbors.  
He who blessed or cursed extant thereupon remains 
Shall suffer little disturbance at the will of his resting countrymen.  
The deep silence of an irrevocable sleep pervades his surrounds.  
His own sleep mimics that of his departed brethren 
But that kin to living rest is a far colder, everlasting condition.  
Lest it be by the appearance of some revenant, 
His nights will be those of uninterrupted stillness.  
The surface of this vast earthen sarcophagus is adorned with faltering monuments- 
The souls of their corresponding constituency have long-since dispersed in nihilum- 
Leaving playing children and Springtime Sunday-afternoon-passersby 
To speculate on their origins and exits, lives and times.  
But make no mistake this is not a wholly moribund environment.  
There is life in this soil yet.  There is an irrepressible profusion reclaiming 
This tomb from its own looming finality.  The tomb is rendered womb by its power.  
The tomb-womb is green.  It is a garden, a park, a yard and an arboretum.  
It is a charnel conservatory of the deceased, yes, but this sepulchered meadow 
Exists as much if not more for those with air in their lungs and blood 
In their veins as it does for those buried beneath its grassy lawns.  
Though in little more than a generation even the freshest entries into its 
Assembly will receive only sparing or incidental visitation.  
The ancestry hobbyist and the armchair genealogist will pay their homage.  
The digger of graves and the mower of lawns will be more frequent still.  
Is maintenance in the face of inevitability an exercise in courage or folly?  
Perhaps it is just necessary for life to go on. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Untitled

He came and found me
When I had given up
He came and found me
When I needed Him the most
He rekindled my belief
He found my discarded faith
Brought my mistakes to light
There were so many
Yet He still loved me
He never gave up on me
He held my hand
Showed me the way
Showered me in His love
One dreary day
Jesus came and found me
He saved me
When no one else could
Or would


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Cry of the Muse ~

Of-gentle beginning-and tender song ... ! That we would gratify love in its truest affection. Stand stead fast- uphold it yield to no other-duty ... ! To-have our-souls' so-identified-unified coexisting- exclusively-mid-this ... . To-live, would I die to give the measure of my-soul- just-to-have this ... once ... ! So place me within, make me the-essence of-the-art- lay me down carry me off- as I would be a child lost amid the grandeur- of its promise ... ! Allow this ink to consume us be the genuine eminence, what we reach-for through the humble virtue, heart-of this quill ... ! So all may view soar higher, and even higher still. Be captured, taken within deep- far and away beyond- the bitter part of this world, into the true benignity, flourishing and forever evolving, amid themselves ... ! Yes help me build me up, mold me-yes- come find me ... ! Trick me friend by slight of hand bend me- yes break me down shatter me again, and again truly I care-not ... ! Fill this paper in-its preparedness ... innocence ... verity, hope ... with the sweet passion elation of our souls ... ! Yes carry me before this-vision ... ! Restrain me-not ... . Set our-soul-free ... ! Please ... ? That we may gratify love-uphold it. Yes yield-then ... only-beauty ... ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author notes Written to the (Braveheart) theme By: Enya The expression of this poem was written from within the greater depths, of my soul. It was a cry of my muse. The passion beside which I stand and the hope through which I write. The joy we both carry for the other, and peace and faith in each other, in which we abide. Before this writing my muse had taken a vacation. So willing, I am open to suggestion. ~ Thank you for reading this piece of my work ... God bless you ... (The reason that there are Hyphens "so many of them") is because I have a computer that speaks them with a faster and slower and higher and lower pitch of voice, giving a certain kind of ebb-and-flow to the work with a softer more fervent and realistic and consistent tone, when I use the hyphens and other punctuation in the certain places that I do, when in telling it what to do. Allowing it to speak in even a moderate voice if I choose. It sounds very free flowing when I hear it, and I can only hope that you will be able to here it in the same way. Thank you for reading and God bless you ... ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #5 of 5) ~ (~) ~

As I am still eager and willing to find out about more of Him and about the even more
broader idea of this today in all of it's certain ramifications. He is still open as I
feel He is always willing in His simple offering of this. And as we all are I feel as well
growing away from Him in this way from time to time. I feel He is just as much in His way
offering His greater love like this for all of us... . 

As in is greater devotion and eagerness He is hopeful now in His offering of this gift to
you. I will keep trying in this way more every day that I can see to help you. I will try
and remain open myself to the hurt you feel now that I have caused you. Again thank you
for your honesty with me friend. You helped me more than you know. Because the way that it
made you feel reminded me of this. It helped me yes reminded me to keep searching as I run
within myself to Him. So He can help me with my problems and these many overwhelming
things. That I often carry within myself alone still. Ones that I am faced with from time
to time. That I feel today I would continue to live with without Him and such good people
such as you and would be made singularly, within-myself, to suffer I feel forever with. I
love you for your honesty and for your courage and message, and for helping me... . Again
I am so sorry. I hope that you can forgive me... . I hope that you can and will. I pray
that this message will help. I sure hope that it will. Truly its all that I would want for
myself.  







~ Love ~ James ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Am Within the Dream

In the dream I kept falling, tumbling
further into the depths of my memories
soul.

Breaking frescos of shard past life
seconds frozen still within me.
Shattering bits of crystalline glass
scattering across the room.

I breathed deep and remembered how it 
will be in the time past time.

My flesh will melt like snowflakes into the dust.
back to my former form dust then
breath was given causing me to combust.

I evolved in the steady slow eternal cycles of
cavorting constellations all careen.
Soul's eyes have seen the flame of two divided.

Searching syllables and water falls of evolving
inky sky.
I am searching for you an eternity.
Restless like fragile shoots seems they never die,
just keep reaching high.

You enter the pool of black inky sky 
but like before I am always shy.
I knew you would be here my reason to
return to the dream.

For it is you that this poem needed to ask why?
Even though we pass through eternal changes,
I will always love you!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TODAY

Like a pearl waiting to be discovered,
The sun rose this morning,
Blinding my eyes with it’s bright smile
Suffocating me with it’s zest for new life.
This is so rude, I thought.

But then again, wouldn’t you be?
If you were given another chance to make all wrongs right
Another chance to smile at the world
Another chance at life!

Yesterday was gone
Today was here
Tomorrow I never knew
But I had today to make things better
To turn around my tomorrow

And so today I smiled back
An understanding smile
We were in this together
Me and the sun
Smiling at another door that had been opened
And so I arose specially today
Ready to conquer the world
That was my purpose TODAY. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A sound of orient

A sound of orient 
-
He looks like a fragranced oasis in this city; 
a lean, yet muscular man in a dhoti, 
sweaty; playing flute, a plateful of bland food 
in front of him, his humble surrounding, the hut.
A village man, who has once come in chasing dream, 
is now a part of this city, a part of speed, 
all except his flute and customary dhoti. 

The dizzy sound travels up, to the fifth floor terrace, 
to the sad man and sadder woman, to the sadists, 
to the dying and to the dead. It climbs up like veins. 
His is a life, with its own brands of pain and love, 
not demanding, the way sometimes this city extracts. 
The days and nights extract a man. 
He hauls out others or vise versa. 

A sound disappears in sleep, 
becomes a village in the vale, 
where dreams move like sheep.
~© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stay

Stay

Stay a little while because I don’t want you to go.
Will you stay a little while.  please don’t tell me no.

Stay a little while because your strength makes me calm
Please protect me from the world.  Protect me from the harm.

When your gone im always scared
I want to see your face

When your gone im all alone
I want your warm embrace.

Ive cried a million tears 
Ive died a million deaths

And now your gone, im here again
Lonely on my own.






Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #4 of 5) ~ (~) ~

I searched for Him inside my heart through my experiences. That I have always known
without Him. And He is still healing me today just as the message states in the very
message contained in the Bible and in the one that was written and offered to you and all
here that made you feel the way that you said. Yes I know that it seemed hurtful, but I
still feel for myself today, it was not truly hateful. It was just how it was offered to
me, and sometimes it appeared to me the same way back then as well, as hateful. I believe
that in both ways God was loving me. Because the more I keep searching within myself for
the truth of my own hate and all their many forms. His ways of loving me I am finding are
far far more! I ran to my idea of Him that I believe we all were given within. I ran to
God through His promise of peace with Him and ourselves and one another an the world
around us through Jesus. I'm truly sorry to have hurt you through this. I hope the other
part of this two sided message will help you. I hope it will. I know it has with me. 

Happy Hanuka friend and again I am sorry. To help another find out the same thing that I
am still coming to find out myself a little more of today and every day, was my intention.
Because my only ambition truly as I fight within myself with the pains that I have caused
everyone that I have known, by living this way, I'm-truly-sorry. I was only trying to
help. Peace be with you friend and come to bless you, and carry you through the pain and
keep you. And so as honestly as I can I am offering this prayer and hoping this as well
for you. That if when you find that you cannot stop yourself from being this way too, and
are able to see it as honestly as this for what it is. You would be open to Him and would
be hopeful, and even more eager in your need for this, and would be willing and be able to
come to accept Him in His greater love. As I feel and am finding out more of today myself
that He is always open to all of us. As I am still eager and willing to find out about
more of Him and about the even more broader idea of this today in all of it's certain
ramifications. He is still open as I feel He is always willing in His simple offering of
this. And as we all are I feel as well growing away from Him in this way from time to
time. I feel He is just as much in His way offering His greater love like this for all of
us... .






http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keIvA2wSPZc&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heaven

Sweeter as the days fly by
The thoughts of going home
That heavenly choir beckons me
To join and sing the praises
Let loud hosannas roll


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Belief

Belief, what a strange and silly thing
Changing from day to day
Blown about on the wind
Like the chirping that birds sing
Changing like the weather
From rain to sun to fear
Brought on by the darken clouds
Of a coming storm
Changing like a beach front
With each succeeding tide
Like a canyons wall
From the rivers flow
So many beliefs 
Seem to come and go
Depending on our travels
And where we are in life
Still it seems from time to time
Something needs to stick
A core needs to be established
Held not within our hand
By a fruitless grip
But deep within our heart
So when it’s time to make a stand
Our feet and heart hold firm
To what we know is right
Oh sure this view seems out of date
Especially in today’s new light
But as time has always shown
Even in the darkest dark
Knowing what you believe
Gets you through the night
And knowing what you believe in
Enables you to stand
Instead of falling like a fool


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BROKEN TEETH

couldn't eat
couldn't sleep
i walk  the beat
they kept me on my feet
theses
BROKEN TEETH


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #3 of 5) ~ (~) ~

As I am always brought back around through Him to feeling it again yes to remembering it
from time to time through good folks like you. As yes I believe I am always and in every
way that-I'm willing myself to look for. I am being brought again into the remembrance of
this, and remembering that I have always felt it too as I believe it always just keeps on
growing in this way in one way or the other. It is most uncomfortable for me... as I feel
that no different. Being brought again to the realization to remember for myself that just
like the rest of the world I am myself truly the same as everyone. At least at the moment
now, I can see it this way. And so I hope that I always can, and will be able. So yes for
myself I ran to the other part of the message that was offered by some good friends that I
feel now were just as bold as you have been with me today. I ran to the good people who
wrote the Bible. But not only to them and their message that they wrote down in it. But I
ran to embrace the main idea that is contained in its pages I feel. I ran to Jesus.
Because I feel that open to me like our Father and His He lived the truest example of just
how not to do what I have been doing my whole life with the idea of Him myself this world
and another. 

And through His example I find I am still willing to do my best I guess to try and live in
this way. And as I do I am slowly growing away from my hate for all these things that I
mentioned above. I can only hope still that I am doing the right thing, remaining faithful
to the One who made me, and I feel now, the world and what lies beyond it and the perfect
beauty living inside all of us. Because at least to me I believe it is the only way I can
feel and believe now today that will always take me farther away from these feelings that
I have felt and am still sometimes being made to feel today myself. Because He has given
me the only way I have ever known that will carry me around this. Yes I ran strait within
myself into the place that He I believe now can be always kept and will always be found.





http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fe7yOccqdxI&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Berlieve

                                                            I Believe
             
                                      I believe in me because me is all I got;
                                      Like the morning dew that falls on a dot;
                                      I am as brave as any clean soul;
                                      That wonders through life like a troul.

                                      With blissful strides I stand tall;
                                      Remembering my past so I'll not fall;
                                      Fall from beneath the ruins of bad advise;
                                      Making sure I succeed with love and sacrifice...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Watch Guard

She is forever youthful, well grounded and strong. Her posture is beyond perfection. Her heart heals faster than mine. She has a deterministic mind that doesn't hesitate to go after what it wants. If I stood beside her you'd think we were twins, but that is not quite the case. She is my watch guard that I cannot see, but only imagine in my head. "Pull through", says the little voice in my thoughts. "Pull through, just a little bit further", the faint voice calls. 

Most of us cannot afford to skip a second, a window of opportunity. Waiting passively for fate to send a sign, to watch a bright light bulb flicker on and off, not the choice pro active planners take. Time moves faster than most of would like. Translucent time is what we have on our hands, my dear friends. At such high speeds, we rarely see it, -but hang on in our minds. My watch guard doesn't control time, but she can see it more clearly than me.

In twenty two years, I have learned that anything worth achieving requires a little sweat and tears.  One or two years older, does not necessarily mean we are wiser than we were in our past.  I have learned from my mistakes while at the same time, I have concluded that the wise are the confident ones. The confident ones know where they stand.  They list off their likes and dislikes as quickly as one tells the time of day. This is not to say that the wise don't take risks, for they most certainly do, but with precision. My watch guard carefully pulls the hidden confidence out of me.

In twenty two years, I have learned stressing solves no mystery. Mysteries are for detectives, whom we are not. We are the achievers, tall and proud. This is not to say the achievers have it easy,- not in the least bit. If sweat and tears is what it takes, then we will sweat and cry. We will also laugh and love along the way, of course. My watch guard shows me the clearest path to take. "Pull through, strong this time" says the little voice in my head. "When you need a little push, call on me", my watch guard reminds me. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Take A Moment

So many times we fail to see
Why we’re able to live free
We take for granted it’s the way
It’s supposed to be
Oh but there’s millions of reasons why
Lying in the bloodied ground
We walk the backwoods
And open fields of our hometown
Never thinking about the price
Of our feet walking on the grass and dirt
Paid for in blood of the millions
Who long ago passed this way
Just so on this very day
We can walk where we please
As free as ever man has been
We look around us
But mostly see our own gripes
We act as though
Everything is owed us
The world revolves around our needs
Only one thing matters
Just what we feel 
We deserve today
But buried in the ground
We think we own
Are the stories told in blood
Of why we’re able to make our claim
And walk as free men
Through the backwoods and open fields
Of our hometown
So take a moment to kiss the ground
Thank the millions
Who came before us
Just so on this very day
We can walk 
Where we please


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Golden Cord

The golden cord was forged long ago.
It cannot be broken or weakened,
though time and life may try.
Others do not realise how precious it is.
Between the sea and the sky,
in a place so sacred....
A blink of an eye in our time,
yet eternity's plan is everlasting.

The golden cord will remain forever.
It will endure and bring those lost together.
Never  lost!  Never alone! 
Never despair, my friend,
for the echoes of the golden cord will be heard.
Just listen!  ...  A whisper! ... 
"I'm Here!"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Part And Yours

No deeds today do I control, 
Except those that are mine. 
No thoughts or words can I withhold, 
Except those that are mine. 
No steps can I take right and true, 
Except those that are mine. 
No prayers today do I need,
Except those that are thine.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality Vol.II

Ya know alot of people talk about
truth, reality, fact, fiction ya know
hypocrites in da church even the 
Apostle Paul witnessed these so called
divisions, but my focus, where I shine my
light today is on marriage. Yeah true
God adores it, thinks highly of it and 
this here is the perfect topic for discussion
yeah it looks easy when ya see it,
two people deeply in love with each other
best friends turned lovers leaving ya parents 
house to live in holy matrimony with each other
Beautiful right?

Aite now hears the grim truth God's always testing
you and the devils always tempting you 
so you try to stay strong. Dedication, honor, 
respect, loyalty forget special occasions candle 
lit dinners whenever to let ya spouse know to 
you they're more than royalty, but life ain't easy
let alone marriage it's far from simple. But question?
How hard is it really thru your years of hurt,
to let that special someone know that your willing
to go that extra mile to make it work. How you
gonna stand when you gotta patiently wait for God
when love hurts and it gets too hard. Thru ya worst 
time would you still let ya spouse climb into ya mental,
God loves a sanctified Christian but the flame in some
marriages is something most couples really need to rekindle.
So tell me whether good or bad times loyal or dishonest 
before you decide to throw in the towel maybe you 
should think long and hard about ya promise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poem

There, at the heart of it all, at the center-fold,
We talked at the table we always did, and left
No tip, but a note saying, "The best things in
Life are free." Once I wrote the waitress a poem
About life, because it's hard. The next day,
She came to me and kissed me hard, then said:
"Fifteen percent of a free water is nothing,
Eleven lines of prose are worth nothing, until
They're read, then they become a medium for
All the emotions too worthless for verse, my
Emotions. Life is hard. Life is hard."


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cowardly

I guess Fear overpowered Hope and Faith. I guess
that way
is best.That way no one hurts. Just 
right. No
mistakes. No 
mess-ups and 
broken hearts. 
Foolishness, like a bird
sees no cat ready 
to pounce. To kill. 
To make it suffer. 
Well that bird 
had hope and faith, 
but forgot about the simple facts of life.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

In the March of Dreams this way . . . once more, never before

I’m marching in the dream 
It’s raining heavily and the sky is dark and flashed with electric white
Silver shards gleam down from the sky
To shatter the still and calm I love so of the rain
In the dream I am young as I am now
Full of life
Strong and full of grace like never before this moment
When I dream within dream of you standing there in the sunlight
Of the sighing of day light waning beneath the whisper of night cascading 
Like the dreams of yesteryear come once more to pass this way

Dreaming in the dream of another dream born of memories long and old
Lost again am I amid the rains pelting my skin briskly, warmly
Like your voice in my ear of when we spoke to clutch each other fast
To hold one another close within the span of memories
Needing to feel alive and whole and with one another
For the space between us still of the yawning days and nights falling softly
Lingering here and then as we lay spent, smiling, laughing in the echoes of pleasure
And I march on; I march on toward the East where I see you standing 
With your head held high and arms holding out to me
A bright smile somehow shyly kept across your beautiful face like a river
Fresh from the mountain of days reborn in the fullness of spring

And so I dream as I march under the raining sky and shatter spikes of silver gleaming
Of when and where I stand before you with a quiet smile of wars fought and won
When across these shoulders I carried the sum of world’s worries, 
Pains and lamentations deep and plenty folded 
Like the crystal I gazed within your eyes
When whisper of meaning deep as the sky unfolded within the stars above us now
Did you from across the chasm between 
And still under the thunder of time and when I hear you so close
I dare to reach out and stroke your face with a feather light breath
From jaw line to lips so sweet I weep in the pleasure of knowing you deeply
But I am marching, still marching and into the East I find myself cast
In dream and still more I dream as I dreamed and dreamt never of you before this
For never having dared to dream such as you, 
Could not for never seen such before have I . . .

I am marching in the dream
Under the raining sky that kisses my body briskly
Like the dream of your voice in my ear in the birth of day
When wrapped within you I did, was, and will be, I am to be once more
For the first

I am dreaming and in the dream I am marching
Marching under the silver gleaming sky I march


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Wish Tonight

Maturity was lost when my heart was broken so many incomplete words were spoken
to hurt you was something I never dreamnt I would do no matter how much you hurt me all
I had to do was remember how much you loved me and that set me free.

Like any old sad song I know I'm suppose to carry on but explain to me how on earth you 
can give up a miracle no matter how difficult, I could say goodbye but It would be a lie I 
could count the days that past by since I seen you eye to eye but I'd breakdown and cry.

You can continue to live your life and I will mine but I will not promise to leave you behind 
like any shooting star you close your eyes and make a wish so here goes nothing: Tonight 
I wish for one last kiss tonight I wish for one last smile I know its been a while and I've been 
in denial but I just can't let go give me strength give me hope that one day soon she'll come 
home.

If that's not possible then tonight I hope no matter where she is she knows I love her like 
none other and I wish her happiness above all other and after her will never come another 
this is my wish tonight.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oh What Times

Oh what times we live in
Where even the rich and famous
Are reduced to trailer living
All those good times
When money was freely spent
Aren’t quite as free
As they once were
Oh what times we live in
Where war, crime and poverty
Are the kings that seem to reign
Where people devalue themselves
In an attempt to find something gained
Oh what times we live in
Where friend turns against friend
So many ways to love
Are constantly redefined
Where people march the streets
Proudly correcting what is right
Oh what times we live in
Where even Mother Nature
Shows her violent wrath
The winds of change
Seem to be blowing strong
All around curiosity builds
As we all seek to find
Where these winds will blow
Running round in circles
Jumping on each new thought
Raising new questions of answers already bought
Oh what times we live in
Perhaps it’s time we simply
Should pay attention to
A book written so very long ago
That throughout all the many years
Has always stood firm
In its claim to know


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreaming of Days to Come

The sweet smell of spring
Danced on the autumn winds
Under the eaves of the wooden cottage 
Past the old rusted screens
Filling the room with fragrance
From the flowers that hid from view 

Out past the garden
And far beyond
Into the dense green forest
That guarded the old house
From the music of fierce songbirds
That sang in the morning sun
She dreams of days to come 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

If

you where to hold my hand
and look at me, my heart might 
skip. I would look away, say 
“The sky is lovely.” Yet there
are clouds covering the sky,
like I cloud my words meanings, for
in truth, I don’t think anything of the sky,
nor trees, nor flowers when I’m 
with you. Only you. Therefore, I think 
I need you, and like the 
infamous poets before me, I will
attempt to immortalize you in lines,
and woo you with verse. If that should, however, 
fail, I lose you to the wind, and men 
yet to come, and without 
you, I’ll be of the trees Orpheus 
sings to, with somber branches and
lost leaves. I will talk and write of your
eyes, an electric, endless brown.
Of your voice, drifting in 
the air and stopping at nothing
to please. Of your figure and grace,
destroying wills of men like the Sirens song,
yet thicker and more potent,
lingering like cigar smoke in the air. 
Eventually, yes, my mind will move on,
but frozen in time would be my
emotions for you in these lines, 
and if ever you need to feel loved, 
you need only read.

If it where to work though, the
story takes a different path, which is 
one I leave to your imagination. 
An obscurity found in most love 
stories. ‘They lived happily ever after,’  
would, could, be us, where you to
dip your fingers (what gentle, 
beautiful fingers), into the well 
of my palm.

The choice then is yours then,   
my lovely R------, what’ll it be?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Spring Cleaning

Spring enters like
a welcome maid in a dirty
room, cleaning all of Winters mess
and correcting Fall for putting him up to it,
spreading her beauty and love, leaving her
fresh scents & perfect memories


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mr. Critic

He said "Tell me young man, what is your plan to succeed in life?"

I replied, "Success is ambiguous.  However, my pen suggests I should look into writing."

He rubbed his chin.  "So you have an addiction to writing silly fiction?"

Silly fiction?  "Okay, Mr. Critic, it's much more than just silly fiction.  Writing gives you wings to fly."

"Is that so?"  He seemed satisfied, "So I cannot scare you into considering a real career."

I replied, "This 'real career' let's me touch reality in ways that ordinary men will never feel.  This occupation requires imagination, which will take me to places unimaginable."


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Heart

Psalm 147:3  God will heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. 

Allow God to bring sunshine into your world.

God's love is with us at every second of our life.
He is with us even more when our hearts and spirits are broken.
When you have suffered a loss or a great disappointment in life, 
God is there offering His comfort in the darkest hours.
God never breaks promises and He is always with us,
even in darkness.
God's love has no end.
Trust in God to understand your suffering.
God will always bring healing to your heart, mind, and soul.
God will fix your broken heart and all you have to do is let Him.
Opening your heart to God is easy.
He is waiting to comfort you.
He will offer you protection in time of need.
He will bring peace to your soul.
This is what brings happiness to someone's life.
Happiness is not found in material things,
not even money.
Happiness is found through God.
Allow God to dry your tears of rain and bring sunshine to your world and the ones around 
you.


Offering Words of Encouragement
By=Shannon Lynn Farlouis


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Weeds

Eating the weeds from the grass you slept in last night.
Don't look down or you'll fall from the moon.

Can you pick yourself up?
can you make it home?
Jump, and hope god will save you.

No faith.

No G.O.D

Just you

Bruised and rotting
You make it seem easy

Dream in the fields of all those yesterdays
and pick the weeds for the hope of  tom marrow


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Were There

  When I was walking in pain and agony,
You were there to ease my suffering.


  When I was walking in sorrow,
You were there to comfort me.


  When I was walking without hope,
You filled my heart and soul anew.


  When I was walking alone and friendless,
You were there to hold my hand.


  When I was walking afraid and in fear,
You were there to give me courage.


  When I was weak and could not walk,
You gave me strength to stand again.


  Always, when I have walked in the shadows of life,
You have been there to lead me to sunlight.


  As I start on the path today,
Lead me, Lead me . . . I pray.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

L ia Ains cy rinn a elle (Part six)

From my pocket I draw forth my friend

The best of me

I have held her inside this moistened leaf of lily
Since the day I set down booted feet across these desert sands
One lifetime ago I cried a single tear and herein I placed
As it lay dying on the shore of years gone by 
Across the breadth of this leaf
Across the width of this leaf   
To breathe it back
To breathe it back and liven it too
That I might, 
That I would, 
That I have 
Held my friend the best of me in this leaf
Who breathes
Who lives
Who waits
Has waited for me
Though the expanse of blistering sands yawned before me 
All around me for years and . . . twice in life a time lost was I amidst these dunes

I can feel it whispering silently
With its cool tepid breath brushing lightly across my back
My neck with feather light kisses
Creeping over the tips of my short cut hair
Comes the memory I am afraid to see
Still I turn and I look
I do, I do . . . 

I cup my hands before in the shade of me
And I sigh a soft whispering of breath
Across her sleeping body to wake her gently 

So in the dying moonlight 
She wakes
With a fluttering of eyelashes
We meet once more again
The best of me
My friend

And I smile a quiet sort of smile
That echoes the murmur of day
Across her skin glimmering inside the shade

“L’ia Ains cy’rinn a’elle . . .” breathe I


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Responses to Reflexive Daydream

But my love had wanted me to close my eyes. She awaited that moment for an eternity with
unrivaled patience. For she was in love with the water and waited only for me to close my
eyes so that her escape could happen without my perception. I was the scapegoat for my
love. What a cruel twist of irony: the reason I was unhappy would seemingly be of my
fault. How amazingly spiteful that the one I loved so much allowed me to wallow in
self-pittance while she made off with her true love. Her true love that lurked so calmly
undetected, yet was there the whole time. 

My love floated, dead, alongside my boat. I continued to ride as the boat smoothly and
steadily headed toward shore. In an almost humorous obedience, my love stayed alongside
the boat. Caught in the wake, her non-seeing eyes saw everything but saw nothing. Her
beauty was unharmed and the water made her shimmer and sparkle with the sun's rays. If
this was how it was going to be, I was okay with it. My love was happy. As I rode closer
to shore, my love's body slowly started to float higher up on the water. Her eyes became
less whited. As the boat slid up onto the soft, white sand, her laid half-in, half-out of
the lake. Without hesitation, I bent down and lifted her into my arms. As she awoke from
the sleep of death, she coughed and gasped. I whispered I love you as our embrace grew.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CLEAN UP YOUR ACT

this you nee to do
as afriend i tell you
to step back
and
CLEAN UP YOUR ACT


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hard Reflections

Living today in the wake of yesterdays yesteryears, 
following the footsteps not walked for a while. 
Finding hope in the pages of time unwritten fearful 
that hope is all for nothing 
Offended by all of the offenders that crowd my sullen day 

All along the way I know in advance 
that the way I've lived most is 
the last way to live, 
knowing the way is hard to find when the 
days amount to nothing. Production slows 
as the motion becomes all to apparent, 
apparently just going through the motions. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

writing from the back of a dream

There I was floating free
amid the clouds
such freedom
without wings
I saw the past
I saw the future
I saw all the world

The past was a thin cloud
The future was a shining hope
The world was full of wonder
for all to see
I saw it in one dream

I dreamed I saw a dim cloud
grey and forlorn
it seemed not happy
It seemed weighed down
yet it did not hold me back
I saw it and I moved on

I see the cloud 
and I see my past
but it doesn't bother me
clouds float away
disappear into nothing
My past is like a cloud
it floats away
leaving the future
the future is shining to me
like a bright place I saw
waiting for me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

And God Takes The Blame

Another senseless death
And God takes the blame
A young girl is stabbed
Left to bleed and die
In the arms of her love
While another curses His name
Another bomb explodes
And God takes the blame
Innocents are left to die
As villains take pride
Beaming in their glory
While heartaches curse His name
Another drunk walks away
And God takes the blame
A life in a tangled heap
Slips away lost
As a sober drunk asks what happened
While loved ones left behind
Sadly curse His name
So much loss and tragedy
While God takes the blame
People instantly cry out
Why’d You let this happen
As their hearts begin to doubt
Sadly the true villain walks
While so many curse His name
Not realizing while God takes the blame
The god of this world scoffs
Claiming victory in the pain he’s caused
Taking glee in misplaced blame
While unnoticed he walks on
Hidden behind his veil
Enthralled in his little game
But hidden from his view
Time is nearly at hand
For God to make a stand
And all the things written long ago
Are about to truly be
For God is about to clear his name
Of all the misplaced blame


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heal The World

The world needs a healing from bigotry and bad feelings,
The fear of Nine Eleven in the air, has spread racism
everywhere,
It is not about buildings or religions,
It's about people making ostracizing decisions,
gaining enablers along the way,
affirming it is okay for hate to have a field day,

The world needs a healing
from the caustic feelings
of prejudice towards different
religious groups,
Races and ethnicities,
We need to remember that foreigners
are builders in the countries they inhabit,
We need to be more civilized,
instead of irate and "crabit",
Hate will only make the younger 
generation sicker than having 
the croup,
It will be every parent's nightmare if they fall 
out of the loop,

It all starts at home 
with the negative
comments that parents make,
The world needs to be healed
for betterments sake.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day After Your Brithday

THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY,
YOU LOOK IN THE MIRROR TO SEE:
A) YOU'VE GOT A ZIT FROM EATING ALL THAT CAKE;
B) YOUR LOVE HANDLES HAVE EXPANDED A HALF INCH;
C) YOU SINGED YOUR EYEBROWS BLOWING OUT THE CANDLES.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY,
A) YOU REQUIRE SIX EXTRA HOURS OF SLEEP;
B) YOU CAN'T FIND YOUR LIVING ROOM UNDER THE BIRTHDAY DEBRIS;
C) YOU WONDER HOW YOU COULD POSSIBLY HAVE DONE THAT.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY, IT'S TIME TO:
A) RETURN SOME GIFTS (WHAT IS THAT, ANYWAY?);
B) CALL YOUR FRIENDS AND APOLOGIZE FOR YESTERDAY;
C) GET OUT OF THE COUNTRY, FAST.
THE DAY AFTER YOUR BIRTHDAY...
WE SHOULD ALL LOOK SO GREAT
AND HAVE IT SO GOOD!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
APPRECIATE YOURSELF AND YOUR LIFE!



Details | Prose Poetry | |

It's Something

Something that 
means something 
to you is 
something that 
was once nothing 
to you. I found a 
place in my heart, 
where know one 
knows about & it 
consumes realistic 
parts.



The movement of 
time is writing in 
this poem in its 
mannerism truth 
rhyme, the worlds 
dead end, is not 
feeling it with 
expectations of 
lose ends, but 
falling short of 
walk ins.



Joy is life, living 
another day is 
knowing you 
haven't died, so 
live today better 
than going asleep 
at night..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Silent One

Who is living alive inside of you? 
Do you even really want to know?
Have you ever spoken to the one that is always speaking to you?
Are you stacking all of your priorities with any proper perspective?
You know it is your battleground or so this is how you make it seem.
A zest for life arises in you continuously only to later be continued. 
So abruptly, you have dismissed the silent one inside of you to go!
All because you were swiftly overpowered by your own self-greed 
Nevertheless, where does the silent one keep retreating off to?
The silent one holds onto every single chance for a timely thought. 
Even all of those improbable unachieved least possible dreams!

What is it that lives alive inside of you?
What makes you even want to breathe?
Have you ever really felt the one who is always feeling you?
Innocence is sweet standing in your way of a divine pleasure. 
Again, it is your battleground or so this is how it surely seems!
Your blissful moments are in the hands of the silent one inside. 
Again, poof vanished indeed this time without a trace or lead!
Yet, you are completely indulging in a definite feeling of gratified.    
Still yet, where does the silent one keep scooting away to?
The silent one holds every crystal-clear thought, 
Even the ones all of you will still clearly demean!

Who gives you to you? 
Have you ever once thought deep and hard into that?
A restricted area due to the danger foretoken, your battleground or so it seems!
Excitement swells up alive inside of you with ecstasy’s loud bursting screams!
The silent one is slipping away while verbal battles are fueling into a combat.
Overwhelmed by self-indulgence your every breath is thoroughly exhausted! 
Still yet, where in this world could your silent one be gallivanting away to?
The silent one holds your every thought, even those you have so deemed!
Now do tell, who knows you better than you do?
Have you ever given this up for a chance of much thought?
Have you ever seen the one that is always looking at you?
Conflict of interest guards the main entrance, the battleground or so it seems!
Enticed to indulge the silent one inside is finally caught when truly sought.
Lured by the sight at hand, but why did the silent one have to stay too?
The silent one holds your every moment in your every thought, 
Even those you always seem to unfortunately forget to redeem!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FREEDOM IS A HEAVY LOAD

its for all
who make the call
be strong as as wall
don't fall
you on the shoulder
so be bolder
is a vry powerfull gold
FREEDOM IS A HEAVY LOAD


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Alone

Glistening gently it sits alone,
Frozen in place, never twitching
It eyes softly chiselled, never blinking,
Full of fear and sadness.

Time does not affect it,
Merely bores it, frightens it.
No-one to care for it, no-one to love,
It sits watching and waiting alone.

Sitting on its haunches,
Waiting to move,
Waiting to roam free , 

The Hare sits afraid.

It dreams of greenlands,
Dreams of family,
It hopes to find it,
It hopes to escape.

No-one can help him but his master,
Only his cruel, master
Though he shan’t,
Darkness consumes his heart.
Only he can help but he shan’t….


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Solace

The cold dark clouds have given way
The sky again is blue.
My heart it does now beat again
And this because of you.

A warmth that's felt from passions fire
Much hotter than the sun
Has burned away those painful days
Sweet nepenthe's been won. 

But though my sorrow's been displaced
The scars they still remain.
Will ever come that faithful day
When I can love again?

When I can give my heart away
And without fear or dread
Be lead by feeling not by thought
By heart and not by head.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

IN THE EYES OF YOUR LOVE

Beauty is the beast.
Wondrous its aroma, that leaves the senses numb.
Its desires indecent, its sadness delicious.
In the eyes of your love.

When in your presence, I am lost.
Your delicacy undulating my core,
lubricating oneself, swallowing the heart and mind.
In the eyes of your love.

But when love escapes you,
foreboding are the feelings, left the emptiness.
Symphony of misery, frightens the air.
In the eyes of your love.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sweetest Acoustic

I listen to the melodies she hums while washing dishes & all I can do is smile and wrap my arms around her. 
The sound of her voice is the sweetest acoustic, 
etching branded love into my ears as I hear the words that hold me closer to heaven than any scripture ever could... 
"I love you baby," ...
Sending chills into catacombs of a once broken heart now fixed and warmer than the coolest winter flame. 
She makes me feel... I can't even say.. 
It would take a lifetime for details, but here's the synopsis. 
I hold her body every night the way she holds my hand so tight, my body so close, and my heart just right, so she never breaks it, 
& I only wish she'd never leave me, be mine forever, by my side whenever, to grow old and die together, 
forever and... be nothing like my last relations. Be the one that makes me secure for the first time. 
Like she already does, like she already had, Like I hope, she always will.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Breathe deep

This tattered box has finally burst at the seams with shame and regret.
The first breath of fresh air escapes these frigid lungs of mine.
I can feel the warmth of the sun on my pale skin once more.
These hallow eyes once again embracing the light of day.
The creaking sound of a crooked smile hisses through the cracks of my lips.
My body is frail, and far out of date, but I still manage to drag it out of this chaos
The chaos that has poisoned such a light mind to such a dark place.
It's the dark place that has left me blind to happiness for so long.
Here this voice sing of renewal, and relief, I am alive again!
Feb, 08


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

If wishes were granted
Just this would I do
I would find my way home
And there wish for you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lament

I have swallowed the poison...
suffered through darkness.
I have tasted the ashes,
lived in utter lostness.

I remember the pain
when hitting bottom;
desperate I dreaded,
what I had become.

To be punished for sin,
how dare I complain!
Is The Lord not my life
from whence I came?

I have entered The Light!
My Soul has been taken.
God proves to be Faithful,
To The called He's awakened!


Milton L. Delgado
Inspired By The Book of Lamentations
Chapter 3
October 20, 2006


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Would you . .

If I told you of my pain, would you care
Would you understand and tell me you love me too
Or would you turn and walk away

If I wrote to you and spoke of my broken soul
Would you cry and whisper to me in the night
Or would you shake your head and leave me

If I told you of my hurt and where and when it was born
Would you feel the same way and tell me so
Or would you turn away and leave me behind

If I wrote to you and explained all my confusion
Would you understand and tell me its all going to be okay
Or would you throw me away like a . . . forlorn dream

If I screamed out all of my pain at losing you
Would you write to me and tell me you’ll stay instead
Or would you cut away all our ties 

If I stood before you and reached out my hand
Would you take it 
Or would you leave it empty and cry no more for me

If I told you I love you and have since . . .
Would you believe in me still 
Or see me now as a . . . façade of a lingered wish

If I whispered to you from your side of my soul’s . . .
Would you breathe of how much you care deeply for me once more
Or would you really tear me from your life

Would you . . .

Would you . . .

Will you . . .


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Ashes of Our Innocence

A song can be heard tonight
Swirling about me beating down my strength
Enfolding the whole of me with thick, terrifying captivation
That chokes a city with the roaring thunder of despair
Of the innocent obliterated in the unforgettable heartbeat
When we died with our friends and families
Slain from the once impossible that shattered our world
Tossed aside the veil of our innocence forever

I can stand no more and I fall
My weary gaze heavenward for I have no answers
With my heart weeping, my soul burning
My mind alive with a desperately hungry vengeance
I scream out all of my searing pain
I scream out with every fibre, every pore of my being!
I scream blinded by this maelstrom of emotion
I scream!
I SCREAM AND I SCREAM . . !

Until my voice runs ragged
Until my anger simmers
And here amid a shattered ruin
I find inside the depths of my soul . . .
That which is fierce in us all

I stand and glare beyond the horizon
Where I know the object of my hatred hides
Feeling safe in his pit of woe
“No,” I seethe
“No,” I burn
“No!” I say through clenched teeth 
“I will not falter!
I will not give up!
I will not give into the swallowing lament of night!
I WILL NOT LET YOU BREAK ME!

I will see you held accountable
I will and I do defy you!!
I DEFY YOU!
And everything you represent!”

I . . .
I like my people, believe in a merciful God
Our Lord forgives and loves us all
And this is the God I believe in . . .
But I am a man, just a man . . .
And I cannot forgive you for this, I will not
God may forgive you
But I do not

I . . .
I hate you!
For the lives you have destroyed!
For the fear in my heart!
I hate you for existing . . .
I hate you because now I cannot help but to hate something

It’s lonely where these towers have fallen
And in this solitude I pick up a stone
I move another stone and then another
For I know not what else to do
I find that this stone is not a part of the rubble
I understand that I am not really clearing debris

I am rebuilding

And this dust covered stone now within my hands
Is the first
In a new foundation of our lives
I see my friends
Doing as I do, lifting one stone after another
We are rebuilding our world
Our ideals

And I whisper to the horizon
“Know this
Today we mourned as people grieving for our loved one
Tonight we mourn as a race having just lost our innocence
Tomorrow we will mourn as people defiled by atrocity one last time
But soon . . .
We will weep and mourn no more
And on that day

We will end terror.”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Man 31

There is no force that can take me from this darkened, wretched place,
Maybe once many years ago, someone special, a girl with a heart of gold,
Only she would have dared touch my shoulders when I was scared to go home,
With courage a brave friend who thought it not courage, her heart so kind.

A friend shone in my mind and glowed of hope in my brutal childhood days,
She and said one day we will be together always when my hope was hopeless,
Taller and much stronger then I could ever be she was always there waiting,
Standing next to her she was so small but strong I had to look up to her.

Her sweet words chased fear away her mind more beautiful than beauty's self,
In dark clouds of my wretched days she stood by my side and gave me spirit,
Later when Invisible was down, he knew who's malice and hate created his hell,
One stood out and gave me strength a little angel stayed with me night and day.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Man of the Road

Walking slowly along the curb of a footpath next to main road staring at the ground,
Swooping every few seconds to feel the smoked dog ends to see if they are intact, dry,
His shabby greasy clothes make him look like an old scarecrow escaped from the fields,
If dry dog end is over half inch his shaking hands pull out a match box and lights it.

He is walking towards the Salvation building to have a hot cup of tea and whatever else,
His pockets are now full with cigarette ends and the dirt on them he smells of old fags,
His rotten trousers with holes at the knees and split up the backside he is done caring,
Wearing a black tee shirt that he has not changed for years clings onto his filthy back.

Finding real treasure a cigarette that is nearly whole he smiles a dirty line of teeth,
The lines have gaps in them where some have rotted and cracked, literally bit the dust,
Brown lips as he smokes his dog ends to the very end, black scabs where he went too far,
On cooler days his nose drips unattended as he has no rags or no care to wipe it clean.

His shoes are odd and worn down to nearly nothing looking at the soles they have holes,
Along time ago he had underpants but they faded and wore away with time, skids and all,
Go back fifty years he was some mothers son who had high hopes for him in his manhood,
He had friends sometimes did well at school, where did this poor soul go so very wrong.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Morning

Morning is but the infant day
Born of the womb of time. 
A babe that speaks to those that hear
A language so sublime. 

The sky with blood from birth is stained
Foretells of coming rain. 
Red sky at night is his delight
At dawn a sad refrain. 

That sailor in that ship at sea
That farmer by the brook
They know the signs, they read the sky
Like you or I a book. 

While wet or dry this day shall be
Both yours and mine to keep. 
Until it's hours reach 24
And then it too shall sleep. 

Why gaze we then at painted sky
And dwell upon this thought?
Let's merrily go forth and live 
This day that time has wrought


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #24

~ Yes, I'll set here with Him and with you, but only for a moment... " Yes talk some alone with you and Jesus! " Of my many dreams.For my new, and expanding family, and for me,and for Jamie, (((and the many a sorted thing,))) and yes I reckon. ~  ~ To run off laughing still I just might go off alone again in time to wrestle with the wind. (((Oh but no, really...))) In my honesty, and my abandon and in the gentle advance of my heart, I say to you. For this is to be considered as well. ~ ~ In a while I reckon. (I'll want to go back in to help Ma and real soon, and of this I'm sure.) ~  ~ To set the table for dinner, and fold, a small lot of the laundry, it is my honest hope this time while I play and roll and jump around on the ground some for a moment with my two teenage children and our little Jamie, our young one, and feed my tiger fish and then do some of the rest of my chores, and so I have found through God and through the sweet nature and e'er-gentle heart beating well within Him. ~  ~ It is to be mine, this! my greatest fortune! ~  ~ To have a happy home now and the better part of my fancy set free. For so beset and living in the honest way-beside-me ... . By one! The tenderness given to me through the nature of His perfect goodness, perfect Grace. ~  ~ Gods' love has finally found me, but still wandering, will I always be! Down along that leafy road. Perusing along, out amid the mighty structures of the spruces with Jamie and the honey humble bumble bee, bumbling on by beside me, and never will I forget these. ~  ~ As back when as to cast them... I set my thoughts of this day with my family and with him... Aloof the songs of the wind while in love I ran about and chasing them with the many little jumpy grasshoppers. (Always ever ginger in their joy!) ~  ~ As they carried in their way for me, and within their spirited hands. My hope of this day! One I have found with them, and in view of God and in the ever perfect way, ( of all of this, (His natural beauty!)) ~  ~ Yes Jamie could be seen, and as God is the one who has granted me this time to be alone with him. ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #25

~ I reckon for a time... Amid the certain proving breezes of the moment, and underneath this ever pleasant emotion of His love given to both my wife and children and to me, and amid the shade of my porch roof, and in view of the wandering sky's. ~  ~ For awhile I'll stay, and plant my but down right here and sit outside for a spell... Amid His judicious graces and in view of the many tendering wooding leaf, and many effervescent, flower bloom, and take this time and a sharpened hand in this very simple pleasure as well and remain right here. ~  ~ On this porch quietly dreaming of him! `  ~ Yes for my new child, in my easy chair. Rocking amid this simple wood... For an honest hour with Him... ~ ~ (Yes for a quiet while.) Mmid the wonder of this glorious season, whittling my stick. ~  ~ For I reckon real soon, this time alone with Him, well it'll be all gone, but it'll be all mine and a brighter hope for another time! ~  ~ Yes a brighter hope for My family, and for me ... . another time. On another day with God. I reckon!    ~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~ Benignity.  What is benignity?  So defined-for-me-myself!  For me it is my zest I-know now for God and life today,  my family. If it is all I can do to cherish these things. Friend  I will! I tell you I've already won! Baby's laughter reminds me ... .  Our Oreo cookie-looking-kitten named-pounce, playing in-the- rain. How-everything from-birth has-remained so-curious to-him.  His resilience as his sister just passed, yesterday. As he lye there with her saying goodbye. So-I-feel God-brings us to this-beauty/ goodness, when-willing, everyday. Though even-we-do,  or do-not-pray. His-arethese-things-benignity ... !     ~~~~~~~~~~~~  ~ e v e r y o n e 1 ~  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rebirth

Landslides, earthquakes, strip mining, deforestation, tornadoes, blizzards,
floods, volcanoes, hurricanes - some of these are man-made intervention -
recipes for disaster.   Our planet is depleted and dying, we must find a new
home, Searching - searching - - - through endless space.  After months we
see it - THERE - in the Milky Way Galaxy - third planet from the sun - virgin
wilderness with vast oceans, tropical forests teeming with life, we can 
colonize here and thrive.  We leave some colonists and move on searching,
but we leave runways in the earth to commemorate our passing and, perhaps
to find our way back again one day if the need arises.  It is hoped these
colonists will learn from the past and honor the new planet so it may shelter
them for aeons to come.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #13

For Him to come, reign, in their hearts forevermore, and reestablish them. Yes to their once mighty position, of faith in Him, the faith, that when granted through His compassion, and ever loving Spirit, would come to echo in the sweet promotion of their peace, and her tears to be known. Are being heard by Him still today, and have served to weigh heavily on Gods ear. As her tears have convinced Him to convict and bring me to Him, and-I-know-God-now ... He is faithful, to her open heart; to the ever, faithful soul of her precious tears, and now, so am I, because free today. Here I am and weeping too, to Him, because of His compassion given, shown to me ... ! As I am overwhelmed in all my gratitude, and because my Lord, God Jesus. He heard me, even though, I could, just barely, cry. He cried for me, and so yes as well, He saw her crying there; full of her tears and honest prayers, to Jesus for me, and the sweet fact, that somebody actually cares, and understands, cares-just-enough, to ask God to find and hold up and bring my hope back for me. I am eternally grateful to Him. For His Love and because tenderly, for Him, and for the many, and the few like me and for you. I know, still, she can be found there. Until the time He comes again. Yes until then, she prays for peace for all, and a true freedom in Him. Yes for all the sick and tired, the broken, and still faintly Hoping. That still carry the desire, to be forever open. As forever moved by this. To the Hope for all the world, to The Lord Jesus, in complete abandon to Him. Willingly, and for a sweet release in Him. For all, under-the-cool- winds of peace, their-blanket of warmth, tenderly, she weeps. ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #23

~ Shown to me here, as it is one now known by me to be the very beauty of His generous character. The one seen shining, on the no truer notions of his. Known now by me as well to be alive, and well, and faithfully thriving, and willingly evolving within the generous opening, of his tiny little heart. The one telling the story of the sweetness of His simple passion and desire for God and of the peaceful utterance and perfect example. (For all to embrace...) Of his selfless humility, and being myself in love with God and being overwhelmed and forever touched by this and by His presence. ~  ~ So in awe of Him, and being so relieved. I begin to cry... As in an new way I begin again, to marvel, and again. I am left here... In complete abandon. ~  ~ And so... so amid this tender moment with Him... I arrive home with family and little Jamie here today. The very same way that I left, and so I reckon... ~ ~ I reckon I'll go out, about a small bit to roam and wander for a while and dream of this glorious life. ~  ~ Yep! The one that is being sown for me and so very sweetly proposed, through the love of God, the one I have faithfully and wholeheartedly accepted now, and have been honestly granted I find! ((( Here.))) Amidst the precious love of my two wonderful children and gracious wife, ( and amid the ever fervent and fledgling hope and certain and ever endearing honestly tender, peaceful offering of His. ) Given to us all through the grace of His greater insight and loving ambition. )) As we all hope and patiently pray and await the perfect beauty! Of the wondrous blessing and promise... Of the glorious birth of our little one Jamie, our new born child. ))) ~  ~ Or maybe, maybe come to think of it," I'll just quietly set here some and whittle awhile, and talk some more with you and our generous Lord today amid the beauty of the season. For a time... (and yes, and I say,) as I do know it will be for me " but only for a spell ". As I think of my fondness for him, and ponder the many splendid visions of hope I have with them and with God. ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEAT DOWN

must say
life got in my way
no longer do i play
i've be up
been thur lots of stuff
its been ruff
up down and around
guess you can say
been
BEAT DOWN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A matter of time

It's just a matter of time
before you realize
you can’t run, can’t hide
or keep secrets from God.

He knows all, sees all,
and hears all.
You aren’t fooling Him,
only yourself.

Why put yourself through
all  hat pain and trouble?
Really .... now ....
Is it worth it?!

Surrender to God 
He will guide, 
direct your path.
He cares for you.

He doesn’t promise 
an easy road,
there will be 
bumps and troubles.

He does promise never
to leave you or forsake you.
He gives peace, joy and love,
at the end of your rough road you'll find ...

His Kingdom.
Where all is new
peace flows all around
joy is unspeakable!

Keep looking to the end of the road
where hope lies waiting for your arrival.
The table is set, the feast is ready
all of heaven are waiting for your arrival.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Baptism

As I come into Your house, O’ Lord
Prepare my heart to receive
For it is You and You alone I seek to find

Let my heart be pure
My intentions well meant
And my steps guided by You

May my spirit sing a song of joy
For it wells over within
As I go beneath the water

Accept me now O’ Lord
For I am giving my all to You
As I rise up from the deep
Wash away all that is impure

For I come to Your house 
In humility and honor
Seeking You and You alone
It is You I long to know


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winds of Your Voice

Let the winds of Your voice blow across the vastness of the earth, O Lord Reaching all that would hear, listening to the words, hastening it’s message Feel the breath of God blow across your face, people ... how can you not! See the many splendors of His work, majestic in their beauty Taste the sweetness of His words, they are life sustaining to you Without them you shall surely die an everlasting death Glory in His righteousness! For He is worthy of your praise He is the Alpha and Omega, nothing exists without Him My eyes long to see His face, my heart to kneel at His feet May each breath I take be that which He has given He is wonderful, mighty, loving and jealous Longing for us to come to Him on our own accord We are not His puppets, but we are his children He longs to give His children great gifts of life Would we not let Him be our Father, are we an ignorant people? He has given so much for us, can we not give ourselves to Him?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Yes, my child

To think of God as one who would give Himself, through His Son, to suffer so,  for 
those who don’t even know His name.  

For Him to love so ultimately that He waits…Waits for the day that even one 
person can see or do no more to help themselves, and they cry out … ‘Oh, God!’   
He answers gently, ‘Yes, My child?’

What a fearful … no, horrifying thought, that what if God was not.  My breath 
leaves me at that thought.  For once you have known Him and that He is … to 
even imagine Him as not, is a horrifying thought!  A nightmare!

Oh, God!  Hear your child!  Hold your child for I have frightened myself beyond 
limits!  Hold me, Jesus, hold me tight!  Tell me Lord, how is it, that You love me?

When my eyes are stayed on Thee, I have peace.  When I have peace, I see 
clearly, all things look differently in Your light.  When my eyes are stayed on Thee.

As my eyes turn from Thee to focus on my troubles I am over whelmed in waves 
of turmoil and fear.  Misery and depression are all I know.

Then a slight glance and I once again see Thee.  I fix my eyes on You and peace 
fills my being once again.

Keep my eyes fixed on Thee, Oh Lord.  In Your peace I rest and regenerate in 
strength.  With all that is around me wanting to destroy me, I need Your peace 
and Your strength.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Seagull's Salute

My dear mother always had a fondness for seagulls.
I don't know why, we lived far from the sea...
The day of her funeral, as the hearse circled the block of our home, 
An old American custome hardly done anymore...
I was quite schocked to see a seagull overhead slowly looping as an airplane on 
parade...
Near fifty years, and I'd never seen one locally,
Food for thought.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hopeful

Hopeful
~~~~~~~
I remain hopeful, for it's all that I can really do
Also I hope that one day my motives will not be confused with your own
I am also hopeful that when you realize that I was indeed a light in your life
The darkness will not consume what is good left inside you
But my greatest hope is that you will one day realize that we all
Are as important to each other as the very air that we breathe 
I love you and in many ways I always will
And I also remain hopeful that you can one day love the father above 
The life he has given you and mostly yourself
             


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Judgment Day

Judgment Day has come!!!  I stand before the Almighty Father!  How will I be 
judged?  Will I have tears of joy … or fall to my knees crying tears of terror?

I stand shaking before the Thrown of God.  The accuser, Satan, lays out all my 
faults and failures before The Almighty.  Shame haunts me, as he cries out my 
sins, one after another.  Feeling small and alone,  my legs give out from 
weakness and I fall on my face in fear, as I see God sit quietly listening, as if in 
disgust.  Just when I think the horrible things Satan reveals of my life seal my 
fate; Jesus stands up and orders Satan, “Be silent!”  My heart leaps!  My breath 
departs from me, until I hear Jesus’  words.  

Jesus reminds God the Father, that it was for those very sins that He died.  That it 
was for those sins His body was ripped and tortured and hung on a cross.  I was 
forgiven when I accepted Him in my heart as my Lord and Savior.  He became my 
covering for my sins and sickness.  

Tears flow, I shake uncontrollably as I hear God the Father say, ‘This is true.  
When you received My Son as your Savior, you received salvation.  His blood 
washed those and all sins away.   I see a vessel white as snow’.  

As I watch, God throws my sins into the abyss, never to be seen or brought up 
again.  I cry tears of joy as I sit at His feet.  ‘I have been saved from torment and 
separation from God’, I rejoice loudly!  

‘Enter, my child’, are the words He says, ‘come to the table and feast.  Dance and 
be merry for you are a child of the Almighty and there is no accuser to condemn 
you.  Rejoice in the salvation of your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ’.  

In my Father’s House I see others rejoicing for they also have been saved by the 
blood of Christ.  

Beauty surrounds me; living waters flow freely for all to drink.  There is no 
sadness, no fear, and no pain!  Only joy, peace and the presence of Love live 
here.  For we are with the author of Love.  God is Love, He radiates love.  

There is laughter.  I love to hear Jesus’ laugh!  It is so hardy and full of life.  To be 
in the presence of my God and Lord Jesus Christ,  to see their beauty and  feel 
their eternal love covering me is my longing.  I am home in my Father’s house!  

Will this be your story?  Or will yours have a sad ending?  It is your choice. 

God’s Word says , ‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life’.  
John 3:16 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

destitute

love the loser
in me
love the windy
city
but i been a kitty?
was he witty?

next to negativity
theres a lint tree
a duration of time
and a sublime
landmine
sign


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Recipe for a Full Life

Start with a healthy dose of morning prayer,
Nourish yourself on God's Word

Add a heaping of love and compassion,
a dash of self-control and diligence

Mix together well, and refresh yourself,
Continue this several times during your day

Add a splash of the Holy Spirit for essence
This brings comfort and peace when & where needed

Claim the blood of Jesus when feeling ill or under attack
IT IS the ultimate strength you will ever experience

Be sure to distribute forgiveness, humbleness and God's truth
As needed throughout your day

Give thanks for everything, make everything you do, 
Show Him to the world, spread joy to as many as possible

Be confident in who you are, and to whom you belong
Make His will for your life, your life's ambition

Love as you are loved, without hesitation
Love with unconditional love, not judging one another

At the end of your day, when your work is done
Give God the glory for the strength He has given

At the close of the day, pray for another one to come
That you may do His will according to His direction for your life

(Repeat this daily until the Lord's return)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

But For A Short While

They were with us but for a short while
Their good works now live on in memory to make us smile-
Their joys, their tears, their hopes, their dreams and yes, even their sorrows and 
pains still linger on; they still remain in the portals of the minds of all whose lives 
they have touched-whether little or whether much-

And as they have now gone and left us in body, gone back to dust-
In spirit, it's only but for a short while.

For they who die in the Lord, one day they must:

       At the sound of the trump, as the clouds roll back, meet us in the presence of  
         the Redeemer, Christ, when He returns to gather His Father's children      
          home to the Kingdom of God where we will all prepare together to return 
           to the New Earth from the New  Heaven  to dwell in Eternal Righteousness-
Where joy and peace will be forever and ever, for our eternal home will be 
restored to a place where we can join together to live, worship in praise  to our 
Lord, receiving our crown and  reward of Eternal Life.

So, sleep on sister, brothers, friends, and loved ones; it is but for a short while,   
 for the  Day will come when we shall meet together once again, and all of us will 
be at Rest

In the Presence of God's Glorious Eternal Bliss!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I had a dream

While sleeping I had a dream, a dream where my Lord came to me.  He took my 
hand and asked me, “Is there anything you would have of Me?”

Taken aback for a moment, I thought. Then without hesitation I answered, “I want 
to know You like I have never known You before.  I want to feel Your heart, instead 
of mine, see with Your eyes, hear the words You long to hear.  Lord, I want You to 
be so much a part of me, that I can’t feel me anymore.  Is that possible Lord?”

He smiled and answered, “As you search My Word, it draws you nearer to me as 
ever before.  So yes, it is possible, but are you wanting it enough to search ever 
so diligently?”

When I awoke, my heart sank as I recalled His question.  Am I wanting it enough 
to search so?  For it sounds like much, too much work.  Then I thought, when it is 
one you love and long to be with, do you not go far and beyond to reach them?  
Yes!

Yes Lord, it is something I want enough to search so diligent for.  I want to be as 
close to You as I can possibly be while here on earth.  Then the day of Your 
return will be only that much sweeter and more spectacular to me.

The smile He put in my spirit that day, made my heart sing!  And sing it will 
forever!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Comes Winter




A blowing season moans mournfully
rising with fearful anger
and singing determinedly in passion. 
Chilling the air around me
makes way for natures winter slumber.

Winters sun disappears
in shades of violet,
this season grows with anger.
A wintry wind now sings in blue layers,
stars twinkle through the darkness
and nature displays her glory.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Prayer

Father God, let my words
Forever be guarded
By Your Holy Spirit

Keep me from saying
Anything hurtful to another
Silence my tongue

Let peace flow throughout
Your church family
My church family

I love them all
And wish no harm
To them or their spirit

Pour Your healing balm
Over wounds that now may be
That they would heal

Strengthen our hearts
To You and Your love
That we grow close in love

For we are Your children
The heirs, the brothers and sisters
Of Christ Jesus

Draw us nigh one to another
That we seek not to destroy
But to lift up one another

Forgive me, Lord Jesus
For things I have said
Things I have done or not done

That have caused another
To hurt or stray from Your truth
From Your love


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reigning!

Your love is reigning down on me.
I feel, with each drop,
The cleansing and soothing
Of my very soul.

You know what Your child
Needs before even I know.

How deep is Your love for me?
It touches the depth of my soul,
It sees the thoughts 
I fear to admit even having.

And yet, knowing all my darkness,
You still love me.

You are remarkable!
You are so full of mercy
And so faithful in Your love for me.
How can I ever love You so?

I fear the thought of not having Your love.
I am terrified to not have Your forgiveness!

Even at my best, I fall short.
Only by You Lord, can I say 
I am loved and forgiven.
And I know in my heart You live
Because You live, I have these things.

I fear nothing with You near me.
Your child rejoices with gladness

For the mercies of Your love.
Lord, I love You with My whole being.
Take my life and make it what You want
While I journey through this life
Reign down on me


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thoughts, Comments

From a sleepy mind, unable to sleep...
These words I do feel deep...
The Soup has become my
number one family
One I spend my time with great joy,
I hope I don't too often annoy...
But that's what ya get,
When ya read a dumb goy...

Seriously (or as close as I can get)- to Christy- I am so glad you love the Shivaree 
song- it was on the ending soundtrack to Kill Bill II.  I first heard of it on a great 
NYC college radio station, WFUV, from Fordham University...I was driving when I 
first heard it, and nearly crashed!  I was awestruck, and haunted...I ordered the 
CD from Amazon (you can get anything there!)...and have heard it many times.  I 
have not been able to "get into" most of the other songs, because if you put a 
Picasso next to the Mona Lisa, you can't really judge.  I have trouble lately getting 
a continuous clean video (on You Tube, same as you)- and hope there is a video 
available from Amazon, but haven't checked it out yet.  
To my precious Shar, you are so sweet, and easily the most popular poet on the 
soup (well deserved)- I often get so wrapped up in writing, I have to train myself 
to read more- And I've been trying...ever amazed by the talent I read, there is not 
enough time in the day...and the reading is so pleasureable, it ought to be taxed!
(oops, none of us want that, it was a pun..."Monty Python"...the parrot sketch),
what a joy to have this great library to enjoy for years to come...And Christy, why'd 
ya' send the racoon here?- He just left and I had to join "The Racoon Club" to get 
him to go...Ya'll great, and I still got an hour or three left in me...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I called you by name

I call you by name
For I Am the one who named you.

Fear not, that no one is near you
For I am always near.

Your heart aches for others.
Others that you wish were 
Close to me, that would call me Lord.

They run about their lives as if all is well,
In time they will see that they are not fulfilled.
Because of you they have heard of Me
Now it is their choice.

For I take no one that is not willing to come.
They will call My name, they will seek Me.

You have done what you were commissioned,
And have done well.
The compassion in your heart still
Reaches out to them.

Now they will see My glory,
As you are lifted up out of the pit.
I will set you upon a safe precipice
Where no harm may touch you.

Most see struggle as failure or punishment
But you have shown them it is for growth.
And you have grown much, but still have 
More growth to come.

You strive to reach the goal 
And you tire but don’t give up.
This is a precious and valuable trait.

I am your God, I am your Provider.
I bring you peace and comfort.
Healing is given to you that you 
May continue in your walk.

Know My love, for it is the only 
True love there is.

You are My child and I care for you.
Rest now and grow strong.
Take comfort in My peace.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Undying Love

As I was sitting Here Just contemplating about us, I 
found myself totally loving you unconditional, fully 
and completely. I cant wait for the moment to come when
im finally able to gaze into you're beautiful loving 
eyes and fully express all of my love for you. In Which
I harbor inside of me. On that Day I'll Gently kiss you
upon your sweet sensual Lips and tenderly enfold you 
within my loving arms and ever so softly whisper into
Your ear all of my hearts piece of mind,so that you'll
know within your heart, your mind, your body and soul 
that I really do love You and I'll never ever let 
You go...never!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dregs of the Cup

Straining to swallow the remedy,
Thick like blood with the stinch
Of gall mingled with death
And the after taste of pleasure-
None running out the corners
Of his mouth- the Physician drank
The bitter cup, enduring the sting 
And curdled abominations stirred 
With grievous residue at the bottom 
Of the cup, and became tannic acid
On the Tree for the sick in the world.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winter of our lives

In the winter of our lives, as we are lain to our final rest
We rest with generations from long ago
As time goes on and it comes to the day
That Christ returns, we will rise up to meet Him
With generations of past, meeting those of present
What a glorious day that will be!

Can you imagine? The skies filled with His glory …
The earth witnessing His majestic power …
As angels … and the children of God, 
Sing in loud jubilation ... loud jubilation!
Of Christ Jesus’ return.
All of heaven sings out His name!

I fear not the winter season of my life
With great anticipation of the joy to come
I long for that day, to see His face …
To stand in His presence … to reign with Him
FOREVER in my Father’s house!
Until that time arrives, I live my life for Him!
Today and always until my time of rest.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Name

My first name is ‘Disconnected’
Middle name is ‘Lazy’
Last name ‘Daydreamer’

I live in the state of ‘Constant Want’
Near the city of ‘Desperation’
My house is located on ‘Barely Making it Avenue’

My main desire has been ‘Living my own Life’
Yet my actions in obtaining it are ‘Freddy the Freeloader’
Please Lord, change me!  Make me who You meant for me to be

Give me the strength to stand up, courage to take a chance 
Fill me with Your love and Spirit that I not fear failure
That I may be a blessing to others and glorify You

Forgive me for living as my name states
I know they are not the name that You gave me
Yet they are the ones I took upon myself

Now with You, Lord … My first name is ‘Joyful Singing’
Middle name ‘Thankful Spirit’,  last name ‘Saved by Grace’.
I am a child of God, living in Your Care!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To All Soupmates

In an effort to get our beloved Ruby Metzger back- I suggest each of you send a 
card or note addressed to her, care of me, and I will send the whole batch to her- 
who knows, maybe another "Miracle On thirty-forth Street"?

Mail to ; Tom Bell 95 New Hackenck Rd., Wappinger Falls, N.Y. Cell Block 24
I will mail them all to her on the last day of Feb.  Remember, her birthday is 2/14.
Tell all your other Soup buddies, please!!  Thank you, tom.

PS- Zip is 12590-1730


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reflect

I reflect
On my life years ago
And things that never were.

I wonder
What I would do different
And where I’d be now.

I think
About all that I missed out on
And if my choices were right.

I search
For who I am
And who I want to be.

I hope
I can finally make peace
And quit looking in the past.

I know
I can’t change it now
And don’t think that I would.

I look
At what all lies ahead
And strive toward my goals.

I realize
Things aren’t all that bad
And I have more to give.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sea and Sky

The sea spoke to the sky and said,
“Join me if you will. 
For the beauty of both 
Shall entice man
And lure them
Right to where 
I want them.”
The sky replied with a no,
“If I help you lure them
They will die without hope.
They will not have seen the beauty
That we truly offer,
That we truly provide.”
“But, we can then control”
Said the sea, to no avail.
The sky exclaimed,
“It is beneath me 
To waste their lives.
I provide them sunshine
For life.
I provide them rains
For growth.
I provide them eternity
For when they look upon me,
They will gaze in wonder and awe.
For I am eternal
And that they will see 
When their time comes.”
With that, the sea grew rough,
Showing it’s anger.
The sky reminded,
“Churn as you will
But without me
You, too, will dry,
But I choose not to do that,
Unless provoked.”
The sea calmed
And man sailed 
upon the sea.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fabel Sixteen

 Fabel Sixteen 
PART ONE
Fabel Sixteen 
 
CharlaX Fables 
 
Famous Charles' 
 
Historic “Charles” 
 
WE now explore the the Charles of HIStory or HiSTORY LOLZX. 
The History of Charles County 
________________________________________ 
Where can you find great seafood, enough history to fill several books, top-flight 
golf, first-class fishing and acres and acres of some of the most beautiful forest 
land on the East Coast?? The answer can be found just eighteen miles south of 
Washington, DC, in Charles County, Maryland -- an area that has become a 
Mecca for heaters and anglers, and a magnet for history buffs and seafood-
lovers .ed.note. This is a love poem of some propulsion to see iff she is looking 
closely at the mee. 
Saint Charles Inn 
The Inn, formerly known as the St. Charles Hotel, was built in 1913 by Mr. and 
Mrs. Charles Barthle. It was widely known for its' hospitality to commuters on the 
Orange Belt Railroad, which came through San Antonio. Many visitors came and 
stayed for the winter season. Word soon spread about the family atmosphere 
and delicious meals prepared from their garden lover. She is so faithful and so 
blessed and gives my heart a rest she loves me best. 
          Charles Demuth (1883-1935) 

                     
"Deem" as some of his friends called him, was born in a Lancaster house on 
North Lime Street. At age 7, he and his family moved to the King Street home 
where he spent most of his lifetime. Demuth's health was frail; from an early age 
he suffered from lameness and as an adult from severe diabetes. He graduated 
from Franklin and Marshall Academy and studied at Drexel Institute and the 
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelpia.P.A. Lover. She travels hard 
and she has to work too much she needs to rest. 
H 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blessings

Blessings flow unending…
Daily we have them,
Some we see
Some we don’t

There are those we appreciate 
While others we could do without

Thankfully, God knows
What we truly need
More so than we…

That even those blessings
We would rather not have
He can and will use to bless us abundantly
If we accept and allow

I want all the blessings to flow
Unending from God above


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thoughts

Thoughts race through my mind
Spinning me round and round

Such an over whelming feeling at times
That I can hardly stand upright, from weakness I fall

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

Is anyone there?
Where are the arms to hold me close?

Will I pass through this time
And come out alright?

As I look into my Savior’s eyes
I see His compassion

He reaches to me
The hand that I need reaches out

He lifts me up from my fall
Wipes the tears and binds the wounds

His gentle touch heals the heart
And brings strength to my soul

His love fills my spirit, gives me hope in days to come
Always knowing He is there

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

To find His hand stretched toward mine
And His arms open wide


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Flames of Mystery

Today I walk with eyes wide open
into the mysteries far beyond this
horizon.

Yesterday I watched two ancient
flames mold and burn from the same
horizon.

Within my heart dances a secret fire
which ignites my way to the place
of twin flames.

In my darkness I perhaps have given
you a light to the path of bliss.
Not easily split are the two of us,
being self and one as we are.

In a cocoon we both evolve,
waiting for the gravitational spiral
of true love to reunite.

Two flames with poetic sway,
frolic in the break of day.
Even on different ends of
the universe.

Twine is those two topaz flames,
wrapped in rose diamond glitter.
Awaiting the eternal heavens call
to home it will always be two flames
one being and self.